New Order
by DarKade
Summary: (updated and revised) In this AU the Slayers are called in a different order. You are Faith Lehane, and of course it had to be you who messed up the ancient line. Now you have to watch your replacements be what you could never be. Worthy. A tale of loss, coping, self esteem and redemption. CW: Major Character Deaths
1. Prologue

**NEW ORDER**

By DarKade

Warnings:

Major Character Death, angst, violence, gore, sex, lesbian relationships

Author's Notes:

This fanfiction simply shuffles the order that the Slayers are called, and as a result events spin out in wildly different directions from the show. Each chapter takes its name from the coresponding episode in order from season one, but not the events. I build a theme from the name, and thread it into the story.

This story was revised on 23 October 2019. Worth a reread?

Comments are most welcome! (but please don't post spoilers for the twists. XXX)

* * *

**Prologue**

_She is dead._

_She is._

She is dead and everything is out of order.

And it is like the world within you shatters into a thousand, thousand shards. Chaos. Razor raw, raking at your insides, crashing jagged. The pieces fall where they will.

Everything is wrong. Everything is out of order.

This is not how it is supposed to be.

_Giles! Help her!_

You wonder why he stands there, cold and still. His eyes downcast, his hands fisted at his sides.

_God damn you Giles, do something._

Cold is seeping into your legs and you realize it is her blood. Pale throat slit wide open; irreversible, unholy. She was gone long before you got here and you know it. But still, you beg...

_Put it right. Put it back. Help her._

Help me.

You keep screaming until your sobs rob you of your voice and the only sensations left is that cold, wet on your knees and his firm hand on your shoulder. You hate him for his kindness to you.

_She is dead, Faith. Kennedy is dead._

And she is.

And everything is out of order.

You are alone again.

* * *

Sometimes when you close your eyes you can feel them. All your ancestors flowing back and back into the past. The Slayers fallen. Countless faces. Countless battles. Countless deaths. It took you a while to realize that you will one day be just that. A single face in another girl's dream. Another link in that chain of loss and horror. Faith Lehane, The Vampire Slayer.

You never thought you would meet the girl that would replace you. But the world is out of order because of you.

You asked her once. Both drunk and bloodied from battle. _Can you see me when ya dream that dream, Ken? You know the one. Can you see me?_

_Yes. I see you._ I see yo_u drown in that well of blood. Kakistos standing over you. Is that what you want to hear Faith? I see your limbs spasm and I feel it too, like all the others stretching back and back. I feel it all. I can't breathe. I feel his teeth at my throat. Your throat. The piss running down my leg. I feel you die. You are the first face I see in that dream._

You nod. Kendra is the first you see. The Werewolf's jaws crushing your throat. Her throat.

Her name was Kennedy. Just Kennedy. A Smug, condescending brat. Daddy's little rich girl turned rebel. Everything you never had just handed to her.

Of course that's just the story you told yourself. She was more than that. Driven from her family, cast out for her differences only to die in some hell hole town, throat slashed through. Alone and penniless. Just one more face in the chain.

Nicky to Rhona. Rhona to India. India to Kendra. Kendra to you. You to Kennedy. And Kennedy...

And Kennedy...

Well...

You wonder if the chain is now broken because of you. Because that is what you are, isn't it?

Broken.


	2. Welcome to the Hellmouth

**Chapter 1**

**Welcome To The Hellmouth**

Figures that you would arrive in a place called 'Sunnydale' when it was dark and raining.

Rupert Gile's car pulls to a halt sometime around midnight. He hasn't said a word to you for the last hour or so, which suits you just fine. Somehow, even the silence feels thick with judgement.

"This your pad?" you say. "Alright for some." He nods awkwardly. It seems like he is trying to edit a sentence in his mind for least offense. God, could he be any more English?

The clicks of the engine cooling. The dull patter of rain against metal.

"Yunno, ain't too late, I could stay at a motel or something. We passed one back along the way."

"I wouldn't dream of it Faith. You are my guest."

"Uh huh." you say and let your gum pop. A light flickers on inside the building. A girl's silhouette peers out from behind the shades.

"That her?" you say, but the tingle down your spine tells you all you need to know.

Giles nods curtly.

"You know, maybe I had you pegged wrong." you say, to which he looks confused. "A watcher brave enough to have two teenage girls under his roof? Super power's or not, I gotta give you cred." You unbuckle your seat-belt and pop the door. "Hope you got more than one bathroom dude."

The silhouette watches you from the window.

* * *

The room he leads you to is on the lower floor. It is small and square and stinks of house paint and plastic wrap. Against the wall to the left is one of those cheap fold out beds you get from hardware stores; the sheets are still creased from the packaging. To the right, a small desk and dresser, both freshly assembled, the alan key, instuctions and ripped little plastic baggies tossed in the wire waste paper bin that still has the price tag on.

You dump your bag on the chair and take a long, deep breath.

Time to meet your replacement.

She isn't at all what you imagined. Mexican, perhaps, a shade shorter than you. She stands defiantly, her sharp, thick brow arched and intelligent. Lips chiseled. Groomed to perfection. Nails short and neat. Her clothes try to say 'street', but the cut and quality instantly show the lie.

Neither of you say anything. Your bodies say a lot, though.

Giles's little cough breaks the silence.

"Uhh, yes. Well, Kennedy, may I introduce Faith Lehane. Faith, this is Kennedy."

"This is weirder than I imagined." she says. Her accent stinks of New York money. The awkwardness stretches on. You wonder if she feels the tingle in her spine, like a magnet pulling tiny fragments in the bone, drawing you towards her.

"So hey Giles" you say "I figure this is a historical moment, right?"

"Oh, well, yes, quite. The first time in history two slayers have ever met. Quite the moment indeed." You nod. Kennedy nods.

Aww hell, history was never your best subject anyway.

"Who do I have to screw around here to get a drink?" you say, and Giles practically chokes.

Kennedy arches a brow and against her best efforts, cracks a smile.

* * *

It's way too early the next morning when you get your first look at Sunnydale High. It's hardly love at first sight.

You decide there is something decidedly off about the place before you even get out of the car, though you can't exactly place it. The sun bleached walls sag just so, giving the windows a sort of sneer. The arches across the courtyard, maw like, threatening to swallow all who dare enter. The back of your mind is tingling like a bitch with fleas- Kennedy feels it too. You nod to each other as she leaves you to go to her class. You expect to head back to the car, but Giles leads you through the bustling quadrangle.

'Come along Faith, the Library is this way'.

As the lights flicker on, you find yourself somewhat in awe of the scene before you; An octagon of polished wood with a vaulted ceiling, set about by stacks of books. Leather and book dust assaults your nostrils. You feel a flicker of excitement, and dash to the center of the room, swinging around to take it all in.

'This is pretty rad G.' you say, slipping your gum to the side off your mouth. 'So, what we doing here?'

'This will be our, uh... base of operations, if you will. I have one of the finest occult book collections in America housed here.'

'The school cool with that?'

'Well, no." he says, removing his glasses, "Not exactly. As far as they are concerned I am merely The Librarian.'

'So why here?'

'Do you feel anything out of the ordinary?' he says, his eye glinting with excitement.

You shrug.

"Hmmm. Well, as it happens… beneath our very feet is a Hellmouth." he says gleefully. "Sealed- thankfully, from what we have learned about it, however it still acts as a sort of… focii... a mystical magnet for evil, if you will."

'School is the mouth to hell? Figures.'

'Well…' he adjusts his glasses. 'quite'.

You shrug. Whatever. You have seen weirder things.

'And I have to say, it is awfully convenient, what with you and Kennedy both attending the school. We can...'

'Whoah, whoah, whoah-there Jeeves. No one said nuthin' 'bout goin' to no school.'

He seems rather baffled by this, slipping his glasses back on like you are a book to read. You let the expression drop from your face.

'But Faith, you are only sixteen. You must attend school or...'

'No way G. Hell no. Me an' school we don't mix see?'

This Giles guy can really load a simple gesture like polishing his glasses. You feel it in your gut, a greasy, twisting sensation that you swallow back down before it reaches your face. He gestures for you to take a seat. You do.

'Faith, you are my Slayer. My job is to give you everything you need to meet your destiny, to give you the best chance at everything. A solid education will prepare you for the world. For your duty.'

'And there was I thinkin' my duty was to punch things really hard. Dunno how much economics or the reading about some assholes in wigs writing consitutions and shit is exactly gonna help with that.'

'Faith, listen to me. Contrary to what anyone has told you, you are a bright young girl. You deserve a future.'

'A future? Oh really? So tell me, how's Kendra's future comin' along?'

You immediately wish you could take it back as Gile's face pales. That sensation is back in your gut again. He takes a deep breath, and puts a book away under the desk. You are almost on the verge of apologizing when he speaks, quietly and softly.

'I am not going to lie to you Faith. The life expectancy of a Slayer, as a general rule, is short. But that is the general rule. I am guessing, Faith, that you are not a girl who likes to play by the rules, are you?'

There is a wicked sparkle in his eyes that you dig. Despite yourself, a faint smile crawls across your face.

'Would you like to look at the weapons cabinet?' he says.

_Now you're talking._

The doors burst open. A girl staggers through, breathless and wild eyed.

'Mr. Giles! Something terrible has happened!'

You jump to your feet, ready for action, but Giles' hand is on your shoulder. Soothing. Firm. The girl is at the desk now, only just noticing you. Her horror filled face switches to one of confusion.

'Who's this?' she says.

'Faith, allow me to introduce you to, and apologize somewhat on behalf of, Miss Harmony Kendall.'

'Charmed.' she says, rather smugly as judgmental eyes trace you over.

'Harmony. Focus. The terrible thing?' Giles says calmly.

'An absolute horror show! She's going to kill me!'

'Who?' You say.

'Why, Miss Calendar! I kinda, sorta spilled nail varnish over this book she lent me. I need to replace it.' The girl's brain hits the breaks suddenly and she turns to look at you.

'Are you, like what? The new girl in school or something?'

'I'm something.' you smile coldly.

'Faith is my ward. She has just arrived in town, and is thinking of joining Sunnydale high this year.'

'Oh, a charity case? That is just so cool of you Mr. Giles. Isn't he the best?' she flashes perfect white teeth at you. You resist removing them with your fist. Like Kennedy, she stinks of money. Apple candy breath. Not a hair out of place, make-up immaculate and understated. Not much going on upstairs except drama. You don't do drama.

'We are going to be such friends!'

_Oh yeah, Hellmouth confirmed_.


	3. The Harvest

**Chapter 2**

**The Harvest**

You live for this. Heart pounding hard, coursing so much life through your limbs that you feel you could burst. Heart pounding. Feet pounding. Driving headlong, vaulting, darting, tumbling and sprinting. You may as well be flying.

The vampire stands no chance. The dead travel fast. You're faster.

You feel the vampire's shoulder blade detach as you boot slams into it. That silky, crumbly, sickly quality of vampire bones and flesh under force. It hits the floor, face and fangs furrowing dirt. Your boot finds the nape of the neck- a satisfying crunch. Limbs go slack.

No need to rush now. It will be hours before this suck-head can stick itself back together. But still you check your six. A lesson sorely learned back in Boston; long scars run down your back like wings of ribbon.

A flash of movement above a mausoleum catches your eye. You turn ready to fight.

It is Kennedy, crouching low, hair hanging loose and wild, like her eyes. You know she found her mark, her arm blackened with grave dust and the carnal look on her face.

She watches you bury the stake deep into your prey. Watches as it blazes and crumbles, the ash carried away on an inhuman cry.

She drops down beside you and you both naturally fall into step beside each other. You don't say anything. The air is cool and hinted with fresh soil and smoke.

Giles is waiting by his classic car. You expect him to produce a stopwatch and 'tut' at you both, but he doesn't. He is not Merrick. A fact that is both pleasant and unpleasant to you.

"Excellent work, the both of you." he smiles. "Now, I believe we are done here. Kennedy expressed a craving for er… BBQ ribs, I believe. Would that be amicable to you Faith?"

Kennedy grins at your confused expression.

"You paying?" you say.

"Even better.' he smiles 'The council is."

* * *

Your nightmares are bad. Real bad. But haven't they always been? Even before they took on the supernatural angle, sleep was always like dark water concealing jagged rocks. Dreams are something you fall into, rather than enter by choice.

You awaken to your little room, choking on nothing but air. Your little box. Clean and neat and freshly painted. No cracked windows pushing Boston chill into your bones. No laying on your stash of possessions where junky fingers could not reach them. Sleeping with your boots laced tight.

And you realize that you can actually have a hot shower. So you do. Night sweat limbs warming to the water. Soap smells like heaven. Having a lock on the door and a shower curtain just brings the luxury home. Almost comforting. Almost safe. Almost.

What else are you free to do now?

You wrap your hair with a second towel like they do on TV, and sneak down to the kitchen.

Kennedy is sitting at the small kitchen bench, looking blank faced and pale. She nurses a mug of tea, so strong and black you can smell it from the doorway.

"You turning British or something?" you ask.

"It grows on you. It was way too bitter at first. But…" she shrugs and takes a sip, returning to her distant stare.

It brings a smile to your lips that there are cartons of milk in the refrigerator. All still in date too. Bonus. You slump down in the chair across from Kennedy with your prize and you drink deep.

"From the carton? Seriously?" the brat frowns "you'll get us all sick."

"Only if I put it back. I am slaying this one. Besides, you ever gotten sick a day in your life?"

Kennedy shakes her head and sips her tea.

"So" you say, wiping milk from your lips with scabbed knuckles. "Am I interrupting some kind of nightly ritual?"

"Prophetic nightmares." she says with a shrug. "Sometimes I get them before a big bad shows up.' she glares into her tea. "You get them?"

You shake your head.

"Lucky. It's a sucky way to give a girl a heads up if you ask me. An email would be so much better."

You can hear the air conditioning change up somewhere in the house. So faint, fainter than any human could hear. Kennedy's head tilts slightly. She has heard it too. Her deep eyes meet yours and she sips the hot black liquid. An image flashes into your mind of fangs sinking into a throat. You both shudder.

* * *

When you were homeless, you had no options. You do what you need to do, moment to moment, meal to meal, shelter to shelter. You would daydream about options.

Now? Bizarrely you are drowning in options. What to eat, what to wear, what to do in the spare hours you can afford between training and slaying. Somehow it feels all wrong. Something like guilt, or fear, or shame, perhaps. It's dumb, but you catch yourself freezing up over trivial decisions. Those feelings drop away when you slay.

You find yourself in the habit of holding your house keys, flipping them on the ring, back and forth and just gripping them, like they might disappear at any moment.

Food is not scarce. Fruit and meat and grains and things you never heard of before. Everything a growing slayer needs.

You are getting stronger already, way stronger. You love how your ribs have finally vanished under a layer of tanned, firm flesh. You love the feel as your work your muscles. Movement soothes and invigorates you. Sparring with the brat? What a rush. You even love the pain as she lands those killer rights. That tang of blood on your lip- maybe the vamps are onto something.

Has it been three months in Sunnydale already?

Today you sit under the palm tree in the communal courtyard of Gile's apartment, eyes closed behind dark glasses, arms folded behind your head. It is too hot for leather. Your discman pumps noise into your skull, shredding up your thoughts and isn't that like some kind of magic?

The brat is at school, so this time is yours to do whatever you want. So you do nothing. Because choosing something would be hell.

Your CD stops and the last song fades out. You gaze up at the sky and have no idea what comes next.

Giles is reading some great dusty tome in the kitchen. You hover at the doorway and watch him work. The kettle is boiling but the whistle fails to get his attention, so deeply entranced is he by the texts.

"This is how he gets" Kennedy said once, "it's his weakness.".

Anyone could sneak up behind him and render him unconscious (And, she said, they often do).

So you pour the hot water into the teapot and bring the tray to the table. Collecting an extra cup for yourself.

"So, G… I was thinking." you find yourself saying after a few minutes of silence, "did I miss my shot at the whole high school thing?"

Giles looks up at you blinking, as if he has missed a joke. You clear you throat.

"I was thinking… I mean... I think… It wouldn't hurt would it? To take another shot at school. After all, things are different now."

Giles' hyper focus is his weak spot. You don't know when his smile of approval became yours.

One of them. Anyway


	4. The Witch

**Chapter 3**

**The Witch**

Buffy Summers saved your life.

With her arrival at Sunnydale High you where officially no longer the new girl. The merciless rumor mill therefore turned its attention to Buffy. It was a relief, to say the least. Supernaturally good hearing and gossip are a painful combination, especially when the rumors guessed correctly. Memory lane was lined with broken glass bottles and syringes.

Thanks to Buffy, you were yesterday's news, and that was just peachy.

You listen to the gossip around you. Her father was a stock broker with a wandering eye. Her mother was an art dealer, who won Buffy in the bloody divorce settlement. Sunny D was the start of their new life.

It didn't take you long to figure out she was exactly as she looked: just another vacuous rich valley girl. Little wonder that she was snapped up by Cordelia Chase for her clique. The queen bitch now had a new barbie doll and you had some peace and quiet.

Looking back to yesterday's English Literature class, you realize that your first instinct when the screaming began was to leap up from your desk and run towards it. Who does that?

Well, Kennedy, obviously, as you both skidded into the gym within moments of each other. It was Kennedy that grabbed the fire extinguisher and saved the cheerleader's life. Not her hands though, which where too badly burnt to save.

Buffy Summers saw the girl spontaneously combust, and she won't stop screaming. You pull her away, down the hall, and hold her still where she collapses, whispering to her that everything will be okay. Stroking her hair. Everything will be okay. By the time the paramedics arrive, she is silent, staring blankly back down towards the gym. They took her away and treated her for shock.

You wonder how a girl that that could ever survive Sunnydale.'

* * *

You remember a moment, shortly after you were called, where you were looking back at the little girl you where, that scarred, flea ridden, street fighting dumpster diver and thinking "look at us now, Faithy. Look at us now.".

Right now that streetwise kid is smirking at you from somewhere in the back of your mind.

You give the pom-poms a cautious, test shake.

_Yeah, Faithy, look at us now._

Kennedy chuckles and you blush and turn to glare at her. She is hovering at your bedroom door, a smirk on her lips.

"Huh. I was wrong Faith, seems like I _do_ have a thing for cheerleaders. Who knew? Go on. Shake your pom poms for me, baby."

"Bite me Kennedy."

"Seriously, you looking like that? I am sorely tempted." she says. She ducks the pom pom launched at her head before slinking off down the hall.

You look back into the mirror and try to disconnect the image from yourself. Who is this girl? Hair shining, straightened smooth. Eyes bright. Skin clear and clean and tanned. A lip glossed, all American cheerleader.

"Look at us now." the strange girl says.

* * *

"Lehane? You're up."

Your stomach is somersaulting as you approach the panel. The girls stare at you like something on their over priced shoe. It is all too sickeningly familiar. Every part of you is screaming to run.

Despite all your playing it cool, Giles seemed to pick up on your nerves. After your morning training, he sent Kennedy for the first shower and he sat you down.

"I know this is difficult for you. But, just remember Amber. She will never use her hands again. Cordelia is blind. No matter how scared you are, remember you are doing this to save those girls." Now, staring at the cheerleader's judgmental faces, you find it hard to muster any sympathy. Rich. Cruel. Gossiping. Spoiled. Let them burn, that voice said.

You notice Buffy Summers is sitting against the wall across the room. She looks tired, her brow beaded with sweat. She meets your gaze, smiles, waves her fingers in a sweet little hello.

* * *

Catherine Madison was the first human Kennedy had ever killed. To say that Kennedy did not take it well was an understatement.

You spent the fight unconscious, thrown against a wall like a dog hitting a windscreen, and all it took was a mere flick of Catherine's fingers.

It was probably for the best. Witnessing a girl drowning a witch in her own boiling cauldron is the kind of thing that stays with you. You can't imagine what that would have been like for Kennedy.

You find her drunken ass at four in the morning. She is bleeding from a fight she started after dancing too close to a girl at a kegger. The brat laid out six frat boys before you found her. She let you drag her home and put her in the shower. You snapped her nose back into place and put the sobbing girl to bed. You find out later that she had put one of the guys into a coma.

You never tell her.

* * *

Amy Madison showed up at Gile's door with a tray of cookies a few days later. Giles was out running errands, but you knew Kennedy was home. You heard her faint strangled sob as you answered the door. She wasn't coming down stairs anytime soon. How do you even begin to talk to the girl whose mother you... well, you probably would hide too.

So, that is how you find yourself chatting to an awkward, mousy girl on the back porch, watching the sun set, sipping stolen scotch and eating the best chocolate chip cookies you have ever had. Amy Madison is genuinely grateful for her mother's death.

You understand all too well.

* * *

Now that she was free from her mother's grasp, Amy happily retired from cheerleading to persue her own interests.

Officially, she was working as Gile's library assistant for extra credit. In a way, it was true, because Amy had quite the flair for translating occult texts. She grew up around them, after all.

Once Kennedy realised the girl held no grudge against her, Amy soon became a fixture of Slayer meetings.

Despite Giles' warnings and her protests of innocence, you know Amy sneakily practices witchcraft behind his back. You say nothing, of course.

No, Amy had no love for cheer leading, but to your surprise it turns out that you do.

You.

"Faith! You made the squad too!" Buffy squeals as she runs up to you in the corridor, waving a piece of paper around.

"You for real Summers?" snatching it from her hand.

You read your name over and over, and once again just to be sure. You feel a complex swell of emotions. Hard to pin down. Sick. Disjointed. Elated?

"Is that… not of the good?" the blonde frowns.

"Uh, I'm… processing. Not used to this."

"Used to what?"

"Being wanted." you shrug.

Buffy's smile is electric. Out of nowhere she pulls you into a hug.


	5. Teacher's Pet

**Chapter 4**

**Teacher's Pet**

Kennedy likes girls. It was never explicitly said, but she never hid the fact, nor it seems, was it a source of angst or confusion for her.

When Kennedy was interested in someone, she was blatant, persistent and confident. Kennedy was used to getting what she wanted, and what she wanted, apparently, was a little ginger nerd called Willow Rosenberg.

Willow was every teacher's pet (with the exception of Ms Litto, who taught Phys Ed). Frail, pale, bookish and clad in utterly hideous clothing, you honestly have no idea what Kennedy sees in her.

Sunnydale cafeteria was bustling. You and Kennedy watching over it from your usual corner table. You carved your reservation into the table in explicit language. The students had learned to heed it well.

"Making eyes at Red again?" you smirk, forking minced something-or-other into your mouth.

"Think she's into chicks?" she says without looking away from Willow. She bites through an apple and munches casually. It seems lost on her that this is the first time you have acknowledged her sexuality outright. You glance at the object of her affection across the room.

"Wondering if she will eat you out after bible study?"

"She's Jewish. Dumb-ass."

"I dunno Ken, she's always mooning over that Harris douchebag. I think she drives stick."

"Maybe she drives both." she says and looks at you with a smirk. You shovel the last of the mince into your mouth.

When you look back, Buffy Summers is happily talking with Willow about something- most likely conning her into doing her homework. That would be the only reason a Cordette would talk to someone like her other than to cruelly remind them of their lowly status.

Buffy notices you and Ken watching. She smiles and whispers something to Willow.

"I think Summers sprung you Ken."

Both girls turn back to look, and Kennedy flicks them a calm salute and finishes her apple. You can't see, but you suspect there is a wink too, because Willow looks rather shell shocked. Buffy shakes her head and glances at you. You both chuckle.

Kennedy knows no fear.

* * *

Tonight, the Bronze is pounding music into your skull, hard and heavy. You love it.

All around you the mass of teenage flesh writhes and roars, flesh glistening in the lurid light. The scent and sounds overload your senses and it is like the world drops away and you just rise.

Up and up and up.

No need to think. No need to feel. No need to remember. It's just your body, searingly alive in the music.

Your fingers create patterns in the laser light overhead and you marvel at it. Is this what magic is like for Amy?

Kennedy's face fills your vision. She looks angry. Or scared. Or both. She is screaming something at you but you cannot make it out above the din.

She seizes your hand and drags you to where the magic is gone and the air is cold on your sweat coated skin. The alley smells of garbage and fried food.

"What the hell is your damage Ken?" you say, spitting your gum out.

"Willow! It's Willow! She took off with some guy!"

"Awwwww. I'm sorry babe, plenty more nerds in the sea." You pat her shoulder in consolation, only missing the first couple of times and make back for the firedoor.

"I think he was a vamp" she says. The ice of your sweat seems to draw into your veins. You shudder. That sick feeling rolls in your gut.

"Where?"

"I didn't see where she went.' she cries. 'You take the right, up towards the graveyard, I will sweep left to the alleys."

You can't run. Somewhere below your fluttering heart are your feet, you know from the rubbery thudding sensation that carries you forward, but they may as well be someone elses. You keep needing to look down to plant them properly. One after the other. Into the night. Into the fog.

As the graves start to blur, you steady yourself on The Von Hauptman Mausoleum, willing your mind to clear. It doesn't. Your tongue traces across your chewed cheeks, tasting blood.

Focus Lehane. Find Red. Save Red.

It's weird. You must have seen the stone grotesque crouching over the doorway a hundred times, but now it seemed to be taking on vibrant, living qualities. The mossy stone crackling with verdant hues.

Hello. There is a girl with you now. She isn't Red. You are pretty sure.

No. No, this girl is blonde. Hair held back by a black ribbon, a private schoolgirl's outfit Her eyes glitter in the moonlight, and she squints when she smiles. She is beautiful beyond words. So much like Buffy.

You smile.

Of course there are fangs a moment later.

Of course there are.

Something smashes light into your skull. The colors swim like magic, before everything sputters and dies.

But you don't need to think, and you don't need to feel, and you don't need to remember.

Perhaps it is better this way.


	6. Never Kill A Boy On The First Date

**Chapter 5**

**Never Kill a Boy on a First Date**

Are you ever waking up?

Damn it. You are.

The pounding in the back of your skull is like an echo of The Bronze. You hear a girl whimpering and you aren't sure if it is you or someone else.

Your vision swims with warm glows, which condense and sharpen into the form of candles. Hundreds, gathered around a cave. No. Not just a cave. Cracked pavers. Arches. A church? A church in a cave?

When you move everything spins and shifts. Nausea hits you like a wave and send you back down into the dirt.

Great. There are manacles on your ankles.

The whimpering becomes begging, growing rapidly into a squeal. A sharp intake of breath and gasp. You don't need to see the vampire to know what is happening.

"This one?" a deep baritone voice says, so loud and close that you have to grip your skull. "Why have you not brought her before The Master?"

"She is poison." a woman's voice, honey smooth southern belle. "I was going to give the wretch a few days to flush out. But by all means, I would love to see you set her before The Master".

"I see you have not outgrown your childish games Darla. I warn you. Do not cross me."

Your eyes focus. The school girl is standing by the bars, looking down on you with disappointed eyes.

* * *

You have no idea how much time has passed. A scant few hours, perhaps, but your Slayer healing has worked it's magic. You don't let them know that, of course, remaining on the floor, throwing in the odd groan for good measure.

From your vantage point, you can see little beyond a staircase carved from rock, lined with candles. It is shudderingly similar to Kakistos lair, and right now you know better than to let the memories claw you back down. You have heard a dozen distinct voices possibly more. Even if you get lucky, that is a lot of vamps to take down, even for a decent Slayer.

Praying no one will hear, you reach down and with your bare hands prize the first manacle apart.

The crack of metal echoes down the hall.

Has someone heard? The hairs on your neck bristle. Heart hammering, you try to pry loose the second manacle but it is far more stubborn than the last.

A shadow falls across you, and there is a deep growl. The boyish face of Xander Harris leers down at you, but the smile he wears twists the face up all wrong.

"Well, well. Faith Lehane? what are the odds?"

He runs his clawed fingers down the greasy black bars. "I figured it was only a matter of time before a girl like you would join us in the dark". He threads his long arms through the gaps and leans on the bars, a spectator at the zoo.

"Well, I changed my mind. How about you let me out."

"Oh, my apologies, here, let me help." the latch clicks and the gate groans wide open. Somehow that feels worse. "There. Well, now. Off you go. Free as a bird."

You stagger to your feet, still weak and aching, and drop into a fighting stance. Even without the chains, your limbs feel impossibly heavy.

Seconds later you are back down into the dirt, knees buckled and ankle roaring with pain.

"I can smell your fear." he says, sliding through the doorway. "Believe me, Faith. It's intoxicating. One of the many things you will enjoy soon."

"I ain't afraid of you, Harris. You where a loser in life. Now? Your just a dead loser".

"Then won't we make a fine pair?" he says, crouching over your prone form.

His face is shifting real slow. The crackle and crunch of bones and flesh reforming. His eyes are yellow and far too close to yours. Fangs slide into place, long and needle sharp.

"If only I hadn't been so cowardly in life, Faith. I saw how you looked at me. The lust in your eyes. Don't pretend it wasn't there".

"Please." you whimper. His foul breath on your face. "Please..."

"Please what?" he grins.

He chokes hard on your kick. You feel his Adam's Apple crunch, and flick his head back with your boot toe. He staggers, and you are on your feet after him.

His arms are strong and faster than you expect, and he has your leg, the pain of his claws registering over all else, and you know you are going to fall back.

You use it. Throwing your arms out to break your fall as your other foot swings up into his sternum. The vampire drops hard. Your window is small, so you roll, and tear at the second iron band around your ankle. No movement- hands too slick with grease and blood.

You growl, working your nails into the crack, desperately trying to find purchase.

The vampire rises before you, hunched and furious, a low, sickly, gurgle pouring from his smashed throat. Yellow eyes in the candlelight. Yellow eyes like _his_. Like Kakistos.

Iron giving way, you prize hard, hissing as one of your finger nails is ripped out by the root.

Xander is upon you again. Claws and limbs thrash against your graceless blocks. You feel a vein open on your shoulder and blood flow hotly down your back. The weight of him is on you now, the stink of death filling your nostrils.

You stand. Hard and fast, jack knifing upwards, the force smashing the vampire into the cave roof.

He lands at your feet with a sickening crunch no human could get up from. But he isn't, is he?

You tear at the chain in the wall, ripping at the stone with all your might. A clawed hand seizes your hair, tearing it out as you turn.

You dive forward and drive him into the doorway with all your strength. One well placed roundhouse slams the door onto his skull, and he is dazed. You go again. And again, each blow crashung the metal against him, crushing flesh and bone.

This time you drop kick the gate, and the force severs what is left of his head. The dark cell lights up as the boy's body cracks through with unholy fire, crumbling to dust a moment later. Xander's death scream is far, far too loud.

Growls echo down the halls, and footsteps follow.

You flee, taking a wild guess at an exit, just praying for distance at this stage.

But then, your path forks sharply and opens out to a lofty caver, and there, framed by countless candles is something that seems ripped from your nightmares.

"No." you gasp through bloody teeth, and somehow you freeze on the stair, even though every fiber in you is screaming to run.

It is just like one in the chamber where you found Kakistos. Just like the one in which he so easily held you down. You remember it. Of course you do. Because it comes to you every night. Kicking against air, fighting to breathe, yet each breath pulling more and more rancid blood into your throat.

The well of blood.

A dark form of a man stands waist deep in the center of that horrifying pool. He turns to observe you through cruel red eyes. Face wrinkled and deathly pale. Lips stained with countless lives.

_Slayer._

Now you run. You run as fast as you have ever run. Until you are spiraling up stairs and tearing through cobwebs. Up and up, up and out, the sunlight stinging your eyes, your lungs and limbs roaring in pain.

But you keep going. Because you are helpless to do anything else.

* * *

Giles opens the door with a look of fear that quickly turns to relief. You tumble into his arms. Completely spent.

_I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry._

* * *

You sit numbly as he stitches your cuts. The deep gash on your shoulder, and several you didn't even register.

You feel the tug of the thread, the warm of the mug in your hands. Nothing else.

"Kennedy didn't find her." you mumble. More of a fact than a question.

"No. I'm afraid not." he says soberly.

"How is she?"

"I am more worried about you" he says, snipping a thread.

"Me?" you chuckle "I'm five by five. Living the dream."

"Well," he says. "See if you can get some rest regardless. I'll bring you up some soup."

That night, Kennedy pays you a visit. Sort of. You feel her presence at the doorway but she doesn't speak or come in. You aren't certain you want her to. Or why she would ever want to.

She leaves shortly after, and you fall into a restless sleep.


	7. The Pack

**Chapter 6**

**The Pack**

You can't remember how you got out from The Master's Lair. You backtrack as best you could, gripping the battleaxe so tightly it has finger impressions in the metal beneath the leather bindings. Tomb after tomb you search. No hidden doors. None, that you can figure out anyway.

Kennedy says nothing to you all day. Makes no eye contact during class. She is not at your table for lunch. The tone in the cafeteria is subdued. At least Amy sits with you.

"Word is Jesse, Xander and Willow are all missing." she whispers. You don't know Jesse. Don't care. Harris was just another asshole white trash guy, driven by his dick. Odds are Jesse was too. Amy has noticed your distance, places a hand on yours. "She just needs time."

You have no idea what you need.

* * *

Cheer practice is in the gym this evening. Buffy is showing off her shoes to Cordelia, who seems to approve. They converse for a while, using a complex set of hand gestures to describe the finer points. You never knew the subject of shoes was so in depth. Harmony Kendall sits spellbound by the two. You tie your hair back in a loose ponytail and begin to warm up. Careful to go slow, you stretch your back out, feeling the tug of the long scars with each satisfying pop. Buffy notices you and beckons you over.

"Hey Cordy, this is the girl I was telling you about. Faith. Oh, oh… Did you see her tumbling at the tryouts?" Buffy says excitedly, before her face contorts in embarrassment. "Sorry Cor. Totally forgot. My bad."

Cordelia's eyes seem to have recovered just fine. She looks you over. Not in the least bit disapproving or malicious, just sizing you up. No, Queen Cordelia Chase is just trying to figure out how she will file you in her hierarchy. Her eyes hold on your tattoo before returning to your face.

"You're Kennedy's sister, right?" Cordelia says.

"In a way." you shrug.

"Rupert Giles adopted them both." Harmony proclaims. "isn't he just… so kind?"

"She saved my life. Did she tell you?" No. That's news to you. "When I had that ooky assed weird eye thing happen, I couldn't see jack. I would have been roadkill but for her."

"Yeah, that's Ken. She's a real hero." you say. _Saved Amber. Saved Cordelia. Saved Buffy. Saved Amy. Saved you._

Cordelia seems to have finished her appraisal, a cat like grin slowly spreads across her face. in the ballpark of a warm smile. She glances at Buffy who smiles back.

"You thinking what I am Summers?"

_Oh no._

"Makeover." the blonde nods.

_Oh, hell no._

* * *

You have no idea how exactly you end up agreeing to it all, not a clue.

But, somehow, here you are, sitting in Buffy Summer's bedroom chair, surrounded by the full pack of somewhat drunken Cordettes in full gossip mode.

Buffy is smearing something on your face, which if you didn't know better was Bezoar Slime, and humming happily to some candy sweet pop song as she does so.

Her breath is hot on your neck and she smells of vanilla and vodka.

Harmony is aping one of the jocks who asked her to the dance. Maybe it's the booze, but you find her performance hilarious. And Buffys eyes are not blue. They are hazel green.

"So Faith." Cordelia says, tilting her head in an almost predatory way. "Care to fill us all in on your boy sitch?" All eyes are on you. "Spill, missy." You snort and sip from your plastic cup.

"Oh come on Faith" Buffy grins, dabbing at your face. "There must be someone you have your eye on."

You swallow the sour liquid. You don't think now would be a good time to discuss the finer points of your love life. The drunken screws in Boston alleyways, tucked away behind some dumpster or other. Hot flesh seeking hot flesh in the bitterly cold night air. Some faceless guy trying appease your Slay lust but never quite quenching it.

_Huh_.

You haven't done that in months. Not since Giles took you in.

"Picking from a big menu there Faith?" Shanice said. The room giggled.

"Maybe she's a lesbian, like her sister." Anya said flatly. "What? She is. Everyone knows that, right?"

Cordelia scowled at the newcomer. It was a rule that Kennedy was off limits. Regardless of her rumored deviancy. You clear your throat.

"Thing is, I had a string of lousy boyfriends back in Boston. Promised myself when I got here I would take my time, yunno? Find someone who would… treat me as I deserve."

_Maybe they did._

The Cordettes seem satisfied with the answer; sage nods and sympathetic smiles. Anya sits up quickly.

"What did these boys do to you exactly?" she said, her tone overly eager. "Men are the worst. I want details." Again, a withering stare from Cordelia made her back off. Buffy takes the opportunity to swivel your chair to face her.

"I'm not done with you yet." she grins, holding some tweezers. You shift awkwardly. "Relax. I promise I won't hurt you."

* * *

Cordelia drives the rest of girls home in her flashy car. Good. It saves you having to feel the guilt of letting them walk home in the dark unprotected.

But hell, you won't let that harsh your buzz. Not tonight. Your skin feels amazing against the night air, brand new beach curls bobbling about your face as you stride. All this courtesy of Buffy Summer's expert hand. You smile and flip your house keys over lightly on the ring.

Revello Drive is only a few blocks from main street, so you drop by The Espresso Pump for a pre-slay pick me up. A young woman sits playing guitar for a enraptured audience, her voice honest and soothing. You nestle into a corner and take your time pulling apart your bearclaw, sipping extra shot coffee and think about warm hands ghosting over your face and neck.

The night is calling. Tugging at you towards the graveyards.

You drink your coffee down.

It is time to hunt.


	8. Angel

**Chapter 7**

**Angel**

The morning sees you all in the library. Giles and Amy huddling over a series of old maps and cuttings, exchanging little theories. They seem to be piecing some things together, as there is much nodding and pointing.

Your recollection of the church ruins in the cave might be the key. It seems a church did vanish during an earthquake, though pinpointing its location required compiling and cross referencing a lot of old sources.

Kennedy was reading books of vampire lore for any reference to wells of blood. She was deeply engrossed, scratching down notes here and there. You have never seen her so into reading before.

As for you? Well, you don't think your sword is going to get any sharper. You toss the whetstone onto the table with a sigh and carefully return it to its scabbard.

"Hey G. Gotta get to Cheer Squad meeting." you lie. He is engrossed in a microfiche, but nods, waving you away.

Nobody looks up as you go.

* * *

Jenny Calendar is your favorite teacher. She looks like someone who should be in music videos rather than teaching a computer class to nowhere kids in a nowhere town, but then, since when has anything in Sunnydale made any sense?

Weird thing is, you like her class too. Computers you just seem to get. You just gotta ask them right, and they do whatever you want, exactly how you want it. They are reliable too. Not like people at all.

Jenny, (which she insists you call her) gives you your first ever 'A' grade. Handing it to you with a wink and a smile. Another 'A' follows soon after. At first you wonder if she is trying to mess with you somehow. A sick joke. But no. you have earned this. You get this. Because computers are not like people.

When you get home one night, a brand new laptop is waiting for you in your room. Giles has tacked on a note:

_Faith, Jenny persuaded me that you needed this infernal thing. Well done on your grades.-RG_

Maybe it is the Hellmouth energy twisting everything up, but you have changed in ways you cannot have foreseen. Maybe it's just being a teenager, or life or some shit like that. Nefarious or not, you are not sure who you are anymore. Hell, you know what 'nefarious' means now and can probably spell it too.

Image sent to the printer, you flip your laptop shut and pick up your cup of tea.

Kennedy can be seen in the living room, head buried in yet another vampiric tome. She seems to be getting thinner each day. Her jeans now genuinely worn and shredded from battle. The same red top or Dingoes Ate My Baby shirt are on high rotation. She wears her scraped up leather jacket like armor.

Conversely your safe orbit around the Cordettes, courtesy of Summers has, by some strange gravity, shaped your look to be positively preppy. Button downs and soft tight sweaters have somehow crept into your wardrobe. Leggings and sneakers. And of course, cheerleading gear.

Your hair is short now, with soft bangs, curving down to just below your jaw. Better for cheering, better for fighting.

Well, that and that bastard fang Xander took a huge chunk of your mane with him to hell. You told Buffy somr drunk frat guy grabbed it from a passing car. Thus making the change, as Summers called it, "a bold, yet necessary move".

You sip your tea and glance back at Kennedy. But she is gone. The brat moves real quietly when she wants to, but never when you are trying to sleep in. She is all scraping windows and the clump of boots. She bangs her bedroom walls when she has nightmares too, but you can't really get mad at her for that.

The tome is laying open on the table. Curiosity takes you, and you wander up to take a peek at the yellow pages.

"Orb of Thesula." you read out loud.

* * *

Summers arrives at your door a little early. She is way more excited by the upcoming dance than you, and she carries several bags under her arm. How you ended up a life sized dolly to a malibu barbie you never know. Maybe it was the Hellmouth being all insidious again, but Buffy seemed to be changing too... or perhaps just liked to hide her razor wit under a bubblegum demeanor. In the moments when she let her guard down, a quip would often fly that suggested she was much better read than she let on. She was letting her guard down a lot around you lately.

The dress fits perfectly. Buffy claps her approval.

"Delicious! Faith, really! Wow." she tugs at your skirt. "Spin around." she says. Lost in the moment, you twirl, striking a comical over the shoulder coy look.

It takes you a moment to realize why Buffy is staring at you with a look of horror on her face.

Shit. The dress is backless.

"Oh, Faith." she gasps, walking towards you. "Faith. What on Earth happened to you?"

"Uh. Car accident." you lie. "Sorry. Sometimes I forget. Out of sight, out of mind, right?"

"Is that how your parents… uh?"

"So…" you say "two dresses out. What else ya got for me B? Maybe something with a back this time. Don't wanna be grossing everyone out."

"It's not gross. Why should we find scars anything but beautiful?"

"They ain't beautiful."

"I think they are." she insists. "Look, life threw something horrible at us, at you... and we survived. Got back up. We healed. What isn't beautiful about that?" she says.

You release the breath you are holding and give a little nod. She hasn't sold you, but you intend to ponder that later. Someplace alone. Someplace where there are no mirrors.

"Faith?"

"Uh... Yeah, well, I dunno about all that Summers. But scars? To me they just serve as a reminder to be more careful."

She eyes you curiously, and you feel suddenly raw and exposed. You look away. To the floor. To the wardrobe. To that weird stuffed plush pig. Anywhere but her eyes.

"Can I see?" she says, her voice soft and hesitant. You swallow and nod, allowing Buffy to turn you around.

"I don't look at it much. Do I still look like Frankenstein's monster back there?"

At first you think you are imagining it, it is so gentle. But you aren't. Buffy's fingertips are gliding slowly down your back.

"They look like folded angel wings." she says quietly.

"I'm no Angel."

Her fingers return to the top and trace down again. As if she could smooth them away. Perhaps she can.

Trace. Trace. Trace.

You turn your head so you can read her. Hazel eyes glittering in the light. She looks so vulnerable, unsure.

Her fingers still.

"Feels nice." you say. "don't stop."

Trace. Trace. Trace.

The tension in your body is rising, charging you, making your skin feel too tight. You swallow back a moan for fear it may turn to tears.

Her hands still and press against your flesh. Warm in a way you haven't felt before. You lean back into her touch and close your eyes, savoring it.

Buffy rests her chin on your shoulder. You feel her breath against your neck coming in shuddere. Your hands are against her hips now, pulling her in.

"Faith?"

Her lips are close to yours. You ache to close the gap, even that little distance seems so vast. A million thoughts and fears lace into a wall between why you should act, and why you definitely shouldn't. An image of Willow's face flickers into your mind. Then of stone wells filled with blood. Stakes blackening as the flesh around them burns and crumbles.

You should protect her from all that. From you. You feel caught between worlds. Burning with need, chilled with horror.

So it is Buffy that moves to close the distance.

And just like that, Buffy Summers is kissing you.


	9. I, Robot You, Jane

**Chapter 8**

**I, Robot… You, Jane**

Monitoring the morgue was proving to be a piece of cake with the Trojan horse you had installed. Giles was baffled by the whole thing of course, and initially raised his concerns about the legalities and risks of such an endeavour.

You asked him how legal it was boiling ex-cheerleader witches heads and the matter was closed. Naturally Kennedy was not around when you said that. Actually, Kennedy not being around was kind of becoming a theme lately.

And so it fell on your shoulders to investigate the most recent mystery the morgue had uncovered. A young woman who, after easily throwing a man through a window at a party, fell down on the spot, stone dead.

She was scheduled for autopsy the next day, so you wanted to pay her a visit that night. Make sure whatever she was stayed dead. Giles agreed that it was 'a rather pertinent course of action'.

He was less impressed to find the girls corpse on his dining room table when he came down for breakfast the next day.

"What the bloody hell Faith! Are you out of your mind?"

"She's a robot." you grin, jabbing a screwdriver towards the circuitry and wires splayed out over the table like entrails. "She's a freaking, honest to god Robot."

You step aside to show him.

"Only in Sunnydale." he says and starts to make the tea. "I want that thing off my table and hidden by this evening."

"Oh, that's right. Your big date." you sing-song. "Ooooh, Jenny, I say would you like some tea and crumpets, wot?" You short something and the arm twitches to life.

"Good god, will you leave that thing alone. You have no idea what you are doing."

You shoot him smile and tug some cables apart. The robot's fingers curl down. All but the middle one.

"Charming, as ever, Faith."

"Well, Giles, you have to consider the bigger picture. You see, I know Jenny Calendar and Jenny Calendar loves technology. Trust me, you show her this and you won't need candle lights and soft music. Or foreplay. She will be good to go."

"Please Faith, try on a little decorum." he paused, rubbing his stubble. "But, perhaps you are right. I mean..". Blush. "I mean about her being able to help with the technical aspects… not of course… the other, er, subject."

You smile sweetly. Tug.

The robot's hand gives a thumbs up.

* * *

Love seemed to be in the air at Sunnydale High. Not only had Rupert Giles finally climbed over his stiff upper lip and asked Jenny Calendar out, but Amy had fallen head over witches boots for a guy named Oz.

Now, Oz you liked. He was the definition of chill. Saying very little, but what he did say was deep, considerate and thoughtful. Oz turned out to be the guitarist for Dingoes Ate My Baby, a band that Kennedy adored. They played often at the bronze, and it wasn't long before Kennedy dragged Amy to see them. Amy had little witchy love heart eyes from that day forth.

Oz was also super smart, and another of Jenny Calendars star pupils. So when you finally made the connection that this Oz was Amy's Oz, you quickly set about matchmaking with ruthless efficiency.

They were sickeningly adorable together, but for once you didn't care about the sappy stuff. Buffy had seen to that aspect of your personality too.

You both sit at the Slayer's table in the cafeteria waiting for Amy. Naturally Kennedy seems to be playing hooky, or just plain avoiding you. Oz is strumming David Bowie's Changes on his guitar. It is remarkably fitting. Oz stops playing, seems to think about something.

"So you and Buffy. I think it's cool." You are surprised he picked up on what was happening at all, considering how careful you and Buffy had been with your secret make out sessions in hidden locations around the school. "I just need to know if Amy knows. I wouldn't want to out you without your permission."

God, you dig this guy.

"I dunno Oz. It's all kinda new. For me, at least. I... hey, It may be nothin'. Maybe keep it on the down low?"

"Cool." he says. And that was that. The subject was dropped, and he went back to strumming.

* * *

You are getting ready for your "study sleep over" with Buffy.

Translation? Absolutely no study and very little sleep will be involved.

Freshly showered, plucked, shaved and moisturized, you are now fretting over what to wear, and how you suddenly feel like a blushing virgin. For god sake, you are Faith Lehane, proud owner of 'mad skills' in all matters sexual.

Confident of your skills in regards to guys? Hell yes. Any idea what to do with a girl? well, (insert head exploding here).

"Hey."

You are surprised to find Kennedy watching you from your bedroom door.

"The white shirt and tight black sweater." she says. "Alluring, classy. Buttons make the undressing all the more satisfying. If teasing is your thing." She is playing it cool, like nothing ever happened. So you can too. She plops down on your bed, back against the wall, and pulls a pillow onto her lap.

"She's a lucky girl." she says. "Not sure such an airhead like Summers deserves a brainiac bad ass like you."

"How does everybody seem to know about…"

"Oh please. Don't insult my gaydar." she says, launching the pillow at your head. You catch it. "I'm the queen."

You sigh, toss the pillow back to Kennedy and pick up the shirt she mentioned. The brat is right.

"She's actually smart, when you get to know her. Buffy, I mean."

"Yeah well, none of us are open books. We all hide things." she says, and hugs the pillow to her chest.

Shirt on, you turn back to the mirror to apply your finishing touches.

"He died you know." Kennedy says.

"Who?"

"The boy I put into a coma."

You say nothing. Nothing needs to be said.

"You were never going to tell me." she says. "You know, I remember you showering me down and putting me to bed."

Kennedy's face is emotionless. She looks tired. Her cheeks sunken, eyes like bruises. The huge cut on her brow from slaying yesterday night just a pale faint line now.

You say nothing, just nod and apply your lipstick.

"Well." she says. "Don't you look the dish. Go slay, sister."

* * *

"Battery operated candles?" you say. "How romantic."

Buffy flips the switch and puts the last one on the table. Fake or not, the ambiance she has created for your "study sleep over" is definitely something. Light years beyond those first stumbling dates with teenage boys in Boston.

"I… am not so good around fire. Especially after what happened to Amber. I am terrified this place will go up in flames. You understand, right?" Buffy says. "Wine?"

You haven't had real wine before. It looks like an old bottle, something right out of a fancy TV show. Buffy says her mother has great taste, so it is probably good. That it _better_ be good- because there will be hell to pay later when her mother finds out.

You marvel at the taste of the thick, smooth liquid. Buffy watches you intently. You feel her eyes on your throat as you swallow, on your exposed collar, down your sternum to your cleavage. As if she was following the path of the sweet wine. She sighs contentedly.

"You're beautiful." she says. You think of a dozen barbs to counter with, but you hold them in. Trying a compliment on for a change. Let it seep in. Like the wine.

Buffy sits across from you on the floor. She has built a nest of pillows around the spacious living room floor, complete with bowls of fruit and finger food on little ornate dishes. A candlelit picnic. Around the room is hung many beautiful paintings, with a strange assortment of sculptures and masks. You remember now that Buffy said that Joyce, her mother, is an art dealer. Which is why she was currently in New York, acquiring some expensive knick-knack or other. Buffy had promised her no parties and absolutely no boys whilst she was away. _Poor choice of words, __doncha think?_

You try to think of a compliment for Buffy, but they all seem too trite. No surprise that you are flunking poetry. Her skin is radiant, pale golden and smooth. Her makeup is perfection. Her hair tumbles and curls about her shoulders, two strands frame her face. In this light, her dark roots and highlights add fascinating depth. And you could write a lot of really, really bad poetry about her hazel eyes.

Tonight she wears for you a low cut little black dress. Barefoot. A few rings. A simple silver cross around her neck on a chain. You smile.

"You like my cross?" she says. "I know, I know, a bit out of place considering what we have planned tonight. But it's precious to me. Like you."

"No. Keep it on. Trust me. You want to keep that on." you say. She looks flattered. It's funny, you have seen all manner of demons from hell, seen vampires shy from crosses, but you have never really considered how God fits into the picture, if at all. You can't help feeling if there was a God, he seems set on torturing you in particular. Oh, the irony of your name.

"Do you believe in all… that?" you ask. Buffy tips her head back, rolling the wine around in her cheeks, considering the question. Or what to tell you.

"Well, when I was really young, yes. Yes, I did. My folks were Calvinists, believe it or not." she smiles at a memory. "Now? A world of no. Which works for me. Calvinists aren't exactly yay for the gay".

"Tell me about it. Irish Catholic family."

"Ouch." she says. The matter seems closed. Buffy seems to get the unspoken rule about never discussing your past. One of the many things about her you admire. There is a lot more going on behind those hazel eyes than she ever lets anyone catch on. But you are the exception. Buffy finished her wine, her expression purely wicked.

"Well, I think it's about time you and I do something that would really piss them off."

You wholeheartedly agree.


	10. The Puppet Show

**Chapter 9**

**The Puppet Show**

It starts slow. Hot kisses that rob you of your breath and your control. Vanilla scents and something richer and more primal. She is on all fours at first, one hand rising to cup your cheek as she takes her fill of your kiss.

You waver, wanting to drive her back to the floor and take her there and then as you have with all the others. Take control. Take your pleasure. But, for some reason that feels alien to you.

Buffy seems to sense your hesitation, and pulls back from the kiss.

"Faith, are you okay?" she says, her voice trembling and frail. "We… we don't have to do this if you are not comfortable." You shake your head to clear it. Perhaps it is the wine.

"I… it's just…" you can't find the words. Buffy sits back on her knees, her fingers on the palm you have to the floor give comfort. Why are you acting like a blushing virgin, Lehane? That ship sailed long ago, whether you wanted it to or not.

"It's okay. It really is." she says. "Maybe we are rushing things. It's a whole world of new."

You nod, and sit back. A sip of wine helps you gather your thoughts.

"No, it's not that. I just… It's like this. With guys? I take. I get what I want, how I want, and then I am out the door. No muss, no fuss. It's just easy that way. No-one gets hurt. Right?" Buffy does not respond, she just leans back on her hands, listening intently. She does that. Makes you feel like the stage is yours. Like what you say _matters_.

"Buffy, I feel like I am drowning here, y'know?"

"I came on too strong. I knew it."

"No, no. I… damn, I am terrible at this." you confess. "It's like, I have all these feelings and thoughts and they are all swimming around and I can't… it's like, yeah… I am drowning."

"What do you need right now?" she says.

You shake your head sip the wine.

"Buffy... I am all kinds of messed up."

"If it's the scars I..."

"I want you, Buffy. And I want this. And I am..." _Go on. Say it. You're a big girl. Right?_

"Scared?_" _Buffy says without malice or mockery. Her eyes kind. Brow soft.

You let out a deep sigh, and down the last of your wine. Buffy sits still, her head tipped to the side, waiting for you to talk. Your glass is empty now. Nothing sits between you now.

"Fuck it." you grin, dropping the glass somewhere behind you. "I'm just being a pussy."

She chuckles. You stalk forward on your hands and knees and kiss her roughly. She gives, pulling you both gently back onto the cushions. A button or two pops as you slip off shirt over your head and straddle Buffy's hips.

"Guess you'll just have to lead me round the curves."

* * *

You are not in control.

And maybe you don't care. Because your back is pressed into the cushions, hands clawing the ground, back arched to expose yourself to the pleasure as it fills you. And such deep relentless pleasure. Driving into your body, into your senses. Your heart hammers blood as your nerves crackle and spark, consuming you like hell fire consumes your prey.

Her tongue is hot and subtle. Two fingers slick and savage. Every moment rising hotly, taking you deeper and deeper into sensation.

She adds another finger. Then as you start to crest the curve, she slows, holding you back, holding you achingly between bliss and need. Then, when you think it cannot get more intense, she slowly slides another finger into you. Somewhere at the borders of sensation, an awareness that your body is arching up, every muscle straining to bring you towards that pleasure. Slowly she builds. Faster and faster, like your body hunting it's prey. And then, she makes another change and you gasp deep and long and low. It is nothing like you have ever felt. You are brimming.

Then, suddenly it is like you are filled with a million moths roaring towards a burning sun. You come undone like never before, like at a cellular level. A string of unformed obscenities fly from your mouth and it is almost like you touch on something holy.

You fall back into the makeshift bed like your strings have been cut.

Your world is Buffy. She has you now, held in her arms. Cradling you as you buck and tremor. And when you open your eyes, all you can see is her, all you can smell and taste and feel is her.

It takes you a moment to realise she is coming too. Lightly, like an aftershock to your earthquake. Her lip shivers when she comes, her lids pressed tight, her chest and cheeks flush red. Warm air puffs from her lips across your throat.

You both are still for the longest time, wrapped together, warmth and warmth.

"I've wanted to feel like this for so long." Buffy says. She turns to face you. "It's like you think and think and think all you like about how it is going to be, but… wow. Just… wow. I'm, like, buzzing from head to toe- but it's a warm buzzing. You know? It's hard to explain." she meets your eyes and giggles. "Thank you."

"You seriously telling me ya never done this before?" you are genuinely surprised. Her skill and technique was beyond anything you even imagined possible, let alone experienced. Maybe it was because chicks knew chicks from first hand experience. Maybe it was just luck that you two clicked. Whatever it was, the fact that Buffy felt anywhere in the proximity of the pleasure you feel now? Wow. That was a real kick in the head.

"Well, I've done... stuff. But not this. Nothing like this." Buffy nuzzles you and places a lingering kiss on your cheek.

Oh god, you would do anything for this girl. Absolutely anything. And to be honest, that power she has over you is terrifying. As much as you feel connected to her, feel as if you know her. You don't. She comes from different world to you. A different class. Your world is death in the darkness and hers is of life in the light. Your affair has been conducted in secret, with stolen moments and secret glances. Imagine the scandal if two cheerleaders where found out? Would Buffy deny you? Turn on you the instant her popularity was threatened?

And what if she knew what you are? What you really are?

"Faith." she whispers sleepily against your neck. Her chest falls evenly, breath soft and you realize she has drifted off.

You pull the blanket from the nearby couch over you both, and nestle in. Her arms wrap around you like a welcome.

And you know you are in trouble.

* * *

Sunlight streaming down onto your eyes wakes you. The room is pleasantly cool on your naked flesh. The candles switched off. The pillows neatened. Many back on their couches. Your body aches deliciously, like after a good fight, but you have never felt so rested.

You find Buffy sitting in the porch, sipping from a mug of coffee. Sunlight catching her hair like some kind of magical aura. She wears an over-sized Razorbacks shirt, which exposes her golden shoulder to the light. You remember the scent and taste of that skin; ache for more.

Her smile carries away any fears you had that she had regrets. You offers you her hand, and pulls you down into a kiss.

"Good morning. I wondered if I would have to check for a pulse soon. You slept like the dead." she grins. "It was adorable, but, if I watched you any longer I would feel like a creep. Oh, and…" she holds up the mug. "Subject to turn into a monster if not caffeinated properly."

Damn living on The Hellmouth. Amazing how many metaphors tend take on a freakish angle.

"Sorry I can't offer you anything except cereal for breakfast. I confess- cooking skills? I don't have a one of 'em."

"Nah, I'm cool. Besides, I have an important project I need to work on." You chuckle "A_real_ project, that is. Not a "study sleepover" kind of project."

"I dunno." Buffy says. "Felt pretty real to me."

Yeah. You are in deep trouble.

* * *

It always astounds you just how normal and cheerful Sunnydale is during the day. It takes blissfully unaware to candy colored levels. Lawns are mowed. Papers are delivered. Roses are watered and fed.

Today, you sort of understand. You feel safe and something close to happy, and wouldn't it be something if that was the whole truth? That life was all morning dew and welcome kisses. You know, you absolutely know that it isn't like that. That as much as the day is sweet, the night has teeth. That life will devour you whole if you let your guard down. Turn your flesh to ribbons and leave you scarred.

Oh, but for gentle fingers. Trace. Trace. Trace.

* * *

Jenny is at Giles's house when you bound in. The sly dog. He is making a big breakfast whilst she is in the living room kneeling in front of a naked girl.

"Hello." says the girl to you. "Have you seen Warren?"she says with a saccharin smile. "I'm looking for him."

"Faith," says Jenny proudly, as if she was introducing her newborn babe, "I would like you to meet April."

"Hey, girl, how's it going?" you say.

"My battery died and I have no motor functions below my neck. Also I cannot find my boyfriend. Have you seen him?"

"I am running her off of Rupert's car battery at the moment until we can figure out how the rest of her works." Jenny says, accepting a cup of coffee from Giles.

"It seems she was built by a boy named Warren Mears." he says "Perhaps you can jump on the... erh... net thing for her, do a search, see if you can track him down?"

"Yeah, I will get on that. Hey April, don't worry your pretty little processors, we got ya."

April's smile sums up exactly how you feel.

You find Warren Mears in less than twenty minutes whilst you munched on bacon with your free hand. A ping on the mortuary records, and about a months ago newspaper listed him in a brief article about "Wild Dog Attacks on The Rise". Welp, so much for loving reunions with sex bots.

You grab his current address and a battleaxe.


	11. Nightmares

**Chapter 10**

**Nightmares**

Warren's house is boarded up from the inside. The windows sprayed black. Oh yeah. He got his ass turned alright.

Now, what battle axes lack in subtlety, they more than make up in usefulness. With a few swings, you let a little light shine in. May as well be shooting lasers into the joint.

The back door has been forced inwards. You can hear flies buzzing. The step around it lined with a layer of ash. You prod the door open carefully.

The air stinks of rotten meat. Inside is a small laundry, spattered with dried blood. A metal cable extends from the door handle to a rig of crossbows mounted to a chair. They have all fired. Explains the dust.

The remains of something or someone is in the sink. Black and stinking.

The living room has been up-ended. The furniture stacked against the front door and nailed down. The walls are lined with bookshelves containing games, technical manuals, toys and… huh… robotic parts. Yep. Definitely Warren's pad.

There is a moaning, sobbing sound coming from beneath your feet. A creak of metal under tension. You find the stairs, leading down to the basement.

Upon the stair, another booby trap, this time a razor wire at neck height, rigged to a motion sensor. The stairs are ashen. Another successful dusting?

You hate this type of stairs, like every basement in ever horror movie you have ever seen. Open runs where hideous things can grab you from behind. Or hack at your ankles. Screw that. You put your butt on the bannister, lift up your feet and slide down into the darkness.

Several computer monitors light up pockets of the room in neon purple and blue light. Racks of supercomputers hum, a metallic skeletal robot hangs from wires on a metal frame. April 2.0, perhaps? She sure looks a lot better with skin on. Guess everyone does. You cautiously move on.

Another support frame. At first you think a second robot hangs from it, suspended on a web of taut wire cables. A fly caught on a web.

The boy's body has been all but hacked apart, hacked so deep the bones cracked through, joints pulled from the sockets, hands, elbows, knees, ankles… all pierced through with cables, splayed out, the wires holding the ruined joints together on thin ribbons of sickeningly stretched flesh.

And he is sobbing. His yellow eyes meet yours.

"Please… Please... Tell her… I'm sorry. I submit. Hail… the queen. Please. Make it stop." he roars in pain. "Make it stop."

You never felt sorry for a vamp. Never once. And you don't plan to start now.

"Soon." you croon, vamping it up. "She wants you and me to have a little chat first."

"A..aaa...ah anything! Let me down. Please. Anything!"

"Who is the Queen?"

"She is! She is!"

"Of course. But what's her name?"

"The Qu...queen. The Blood Queen. please."

"Name."

"I don't know. I don't know! I swear!"

"Give me her name, and I cut you down."

"Fuh… fuhh… hhking bitch! You bitch! You whore! Let me down right now!"

"Who. Is. The. Queen?"

"I am." a voice, modulated, like electronic black syrup blares out from speakers around the room.

The light in the room changes suddenly red. An image on all of the screens. A velvet red wall. A black clad woman sits on a red antique chair, her face hidden behind a black, featureless, highly glossy mask. She leans forward, like slick oil.

"And I assume you are The Slayer I hear so much about."

"Probably not."

_No. You're just the mistake._

"Shame. This would have been really fun, then."

_Dodge_!

You snap your head to the side, a chrome blade whispers past, nicking your neck. You swing your axe to lock it in place, but it retracts too fast. You only just parry the second and third blow.

A silver skull grins wickedly at you from the shadows, eye sockets empty. The robot circles around you smoothly, black artificial muscles, just like April's, hissing and quivering as it readys two chrome blades extending from the wrists. It blocks your only exit.

"Gotta say. This is not how I pictured my day going." you say.

You lunge with the axe, the robot catching it easily, allowing you to plant a kick. Metal crumples, and the bot staggers, regaining balance inhumanly fast. Your second kick anticipated, the left blade buries deep into your thigh. See the flesh part like a fish belly.

"See Warren? Your vision was so short sighted. Sex slaves? such a waste." the distorted voice says. The sound feeds back, speakers cranked up to distract you. "How are you enjoying my upgrades Faith?"

She knows your name.

You focus on the droid, despite the chill running through you. You limp back, clutching your leg. The robot lunges and you step aside, hooking it's leg forward, burying the axe deep into its skull. A swipe of the blade forces you to release the weapon and roll back.

The robot rushes you, blades a blur. You leap back with both feet onto the table, kicking junk at your foe. The robot has no eyes. No cameras. But the Queen can see you. You round off and tuck as the blades shred through the monitor behind you.

You spot them. Three cameras. You wall run and tear the first down. A blade follows you, showering sparks. You gather a screwdriver Z you roll across the bench. Teeth gritted as junk tears your flesh. The second camera you take out with a lucky throw.

But you land clumsily, your wrist making a sickening grinding noise and gives away. The robot's blade flies at your face, stopping short. It tries again, stopping close.

No depth perception. One camera left.

It can't see your legs. You sweep it to the ground and pit you full bodyweight onto it, skidding it under the bench, where the camera cannot see. Limited in joint range like the humans it is based on, it struggles gaining the leverage to stand, but you lean just right. Your uninjured hand tears at the chrome panel, slicing your fingers on the metal. A tear of wires and it is over.

You stand, holding up the power core, slick with your blood, to the final camera.

"Hail to The Queen." you grin.

The Queen claps slowly, steel clawed hands coated in a black, rubbery material. What is it with vamps and kink gear?

"Nicely done Faith." she says. "you won the fight. But, sadly, you have lost the game. I know who you are now, Slayer. And where you live."

The laughter cuts into you like a thousand razors.

The screens all cut out, plunging you into nese darkness.

You turn to the sickening thing that was Warren Mears. The vampire lifts his face to glare at you with inhuman, hate filled eyes. Fang's bared.

"Okay, so here's the deal…" you say.

The room bleeds red light, feedback drilling into your ears. The Queen's featureless helmet appears once again on the screens.

"Silly me. Almost forgot to tidy up."

Warren roars in agony as the cables holding him in torment turn white hot. The air fills with the stench of burning flesh. His broken body drops to the floor, piece by blackening piece. Warren Mear's skull shatters to ash at your feet. The monitors start to flicker off, one by one, leaving you in darkness. The final image of the queen blows you a kiss.

"See you soon Faith".

The screens flicker off one by one, leaving you in the darkness.

* * *

"G Man! We got trouble!"

Giles rushes to you as you stagger into the back door to the kitchen. Thick red blood tapping to the tiles.

"Faith! Oh goddess" It is Jenny, looking terrified. "I'll call the ambulance."

"No." you say. "No hospitals. Giles got this. Ain't as bad as it looks. "Bitch. Just cut the muscle. No artery. I think."

Giles sweeps the kitchen table clean, dishes smashing to the floor. He helps you up onto the makeshift operating table.

"Jenny, there's an emergency kit in the hall cupboard." Giles says. Jenny nods and runs. Maybe it is worse than it looks. Giles slices your leggings off, receiving the kit from Jenny.

"Who did this to you?"

"Turns out? April had a little sister. Blades looked new, clean. Sharp as you like."

"Cuts are clean but will need stitches."

"Giles are you crazy? This girl needs hospital."

"No. Faith's… special. Her healing speed is way beyond a normal person. Trust me. Pass me the bottle." Jenny does. Oh great.

"I love this bit" you laugh and clench your teeth ready for the burn of the chemicals. You hiss as it comes. Now the sting and tug of the stitches.

"Giles, we need to get out." you say "The Queen knows where we live. My name. She knows what I am. She's coming for us. Tonight."

"Jenny, you need to go."

"I am not going anywhere." she says, jaw set.

"Listen to me Jenny. There are things in this world it is best not know nothing about. It is safer for you to..."

"Like vampires?" she says. Arms folded. She gestures to you. "like Slayers?"

"How?" he says.

"I'm a technopagan Giles." He looks blankly. "witches that combine magic and technology." She sighs and leans against the counter.

"I came to Sunnydale to keep an eye on... look, The Hellmouth. Do you know what that is? Good. And where it is located? Great. Then you know that I know what I am getting myself in to. So I stay."

"Trust me Giles, we are gonna need her. The Queen knows her tech."

Giles pinches his nose and relents.

"Okay." you say. "Warren was vamped. From the looks of things, somehow he pissed off this 'Blood Queen' bitch. I think he wasted some of her goons with traps. But they got him. She left me a little surprise in the form of a murderous robot."

"She knew you were coming."

"Maybe… she's smart. Tech savvy. Patient. Maybe she plays the long game." you say. "And she knew my name."

"Blood Queen." Giles rushes into the study. Jenny comes closer, looking with concern at your leg.

"Goddess, you poor thing." she says.

"All in a days work. Believe it or not. This is nothing." you wince as you ease yourself off the table Jenny supporting you "Thanks."

Giles rushes back, Kennedy's notebook open.

"Kennedy mentioned her dreams of late had reoccurring imagery. A fanged skeleton with red and black roses growing within its ribs, the petals slowly coated in black oil.A naked woman, white skin, black hair, rising from a well of blood framed about in gold. She wears gems and jewels and pearls about her. Could this be our Queen?"

"Maybe." you shrug.

"She writes of flashes of green and gold blinding her. A silver Skull. A throat slashed open."

"The robot had a metallic skull. The Terminator but with, like, silicone gums and layers of tendons and shit. Next level freaky."

Giles checks his watch.

"We need to get to The Library. Find out everything we can on this Blood Queen. We have eight hours till sunset."

Kenney has prophetic dreams. You don't. Perhaps the messages are for the true Slayer's ears only. The true Slayer. Not you.

The drive to Sunnydale High is in an uneasy silence. Pain is gnawing away on you like termites in wood.

The painkillers will kick in soon. Let the Slayer magic work away.

Giles called Amy. She was inbound with her Grimoire. No way to reach Kennedy, so a note scribbled on the door would have to suffice.

_Kennedy. Gone for chocolate doughnuts. RF XXXX._

Which was code, of course. The number of kisses was the level of shit you where in, on a scale of one to three. With any luck she would join you at the library.

And that is exactly where you find her.

And the part of Kennedy's dream, that part about a throat slashed wide open.

Well, it's meaning was all too clear.

_Giles!_

_Giles! Help her!_

_God damn you!… do something!_

_She is dead, Faith._

_Kennedy is dead._


	12. Out of Mind, Out of Sight

**Chapter 11**

** Out of Mind, Out of Sight**

Kennedy's body is lying where the bitch left her. Eyes still open. Hair drenched in a pool of her own blood.

Her throat…

You scrunch your fingers around the broadsword's handle. Knuckles white. Teeth grinding on your rage.

Giles pops the cap back onto the marker, looks over his work and lets out an audible sigh. He slumps down into the chair next to yours, his face pale and gaunt.

_A naked woman, white skin, black hair, rising from a well of blood framed about in gold._

Always the well of blood. Acid burns your throat. Your leg throbs. Everything else is numb.

Amy gestures towards the whiteboard.

"This woman, may be a reference to Elizabeth Bathory? She was a hungarian noble, said to bathe in the blood of virgins to retain her youth." she says, looking mainly at you.

"No." Jenny says firmly. "There's no evidence at all that Báthory did any of the things she was accused of. Only hearsay and a seriously sketchy investigation that financially benefited the men investigating. The whole "Bathing in blood" thing came about long after the investigation. They just didn't like a woman to have that much power, is all."

"Uh. Quite. The watcher's journals about the time simply do not mention her. No slayer is recorded to have encountered Báthory or any vampires claiming to be descendants. It's likely Jenny is quite correct."

"That doesn't discount her." Amy says. The giant gold basin and all the gold chains and jewels on her fingers? Definitely fits the whole powerful noble vibe."

Giles takes a marker and adds an arrow from 'gold chains and jewelry' to the board to a circle in which he writes 'E.Báthory' and 'noble' within. Jenny scoffs.

"So this image of the well or bath of blood. The Master and Kakistos both had them in the heart of their lairs, like a throne room." Amy says, tapping her marker to her lip. "Let's say it is a status symbol among Vampire Kings, that would imply that this woman is or was of very high status."

"A Vampire Queen." you say.

"What if the girl in the image is a victim, not a vampire?" Jenny says.

"Or a sacrifice." Adds Amy. Jenny agrees.

"Hang on." Giles retrieves a book and flips through the pages. "Perhaps this is indeed a warning about a new queen rising to power here. There is mention of an infamous dark haired beauty with white skin… yes… part of the four known as The Whirlwind... a... uh... yes, her name was Drusilla."

"There must countless vampire women who fit that description." Amy says.

"Yes, but to be a Vampire Queen she would have to be able to conjure real respect or fear amongst vampires. Drusilla would have both the age and lineage. It says here that Drusilla's sire… Angelus, was himself sired by Darla, who was sired by The Master of House Aurelius. That is the same Master who tried to open The Hellmouth."

"So he got a wife to pass the time. Whoever she is, bitch has no standards. Dude is fugly as hell." you say, but bells are ringing in your mind. A sickly fanged smile splitting a beautiful face.

"Wait. You said Darla? I just remembered- that vamp chick with the schoolgirl kink was called Darla. But she's a blonde. Short hair. And has a thick southern drawl. This Queen spoke different. The words were more sort of, well defined."

"Yes. This Darla was indeed from the South." Giles confirms. "The fourth member of The Whirlwind was William The Bloody. I have seen references to him too." he blanks and looks about the room. "Ehm. Somewhere."

"House Aurelius may be gathering here for a ritual. The Whirlwind are reforming. Here. On the Hellmouth." Amy says.

"Great." you say, you try not to, but your eyes keep falling back down to Kennedy. Her limbs folded gently about her. Sickening reminiscent of a fashion model in a high end magazine. Poised. Coldly staring off into space.

"I'm sorry Faith, its terrible, I know but you know we have to leave her." Giles says.

You nod, and wonder how your own body will fall. Who will find you? Who will even care?

Another thought occurs to you then. How could the vampires take out a slayer in the middle of the day, in broad daylight?

A phone rings in Giles' office. He excuses himself and takes the call.

"Thank you for calling me back at such an hour. Yes. Yes, I am afraid so.

"You don't? But how is that…? I see. I understand. Yes. Of course. I will. And to you."

He places the phone onto the cradle solemnly.

"That was The Watcher's Council. They pass on their condolences. Also, disturbingly, they inform me that none of the potential Slayers under our watch have been activated. That can only mean whoever she is, we didn't find her in time."

"Or no Slayer was called." you mutter.

_You broke it. You should have stayed dead._

"Well" Giles pulls his glasses off and runs a tired hand over his face. "Whoever she is, The Powers That Be always call her where she is needed most. That could be very well be nearby."

"So we have a mystery Queen, a Mystery Slayer and a gathering of the worst vampires in history?" you chuckle. "this just keeps getting better by the minute."

You all sit in silence. The library is deathly still.

"Sundown is in two hours." Jenny says. "We need a plan."

The weapon rack and anything suspicious in the Library now resides in the boot of Giles car. It feels like cruel abandonment, like the worst treachery, but you have to leave Kennedy's body where you found her. Clean up around her. Switch off the lights. Give her one last look. And walk away.

The janitor would find her body tomorrow.

You lead the team to Warren's house. Your best bet for clues. The Blood Queen had patched in, so maybe Jenny could work her magic and trace her.

You disable the camera before they enter the basement. Amy keeps watch upstairs. Cast spells to ward away evil. To alert her to danger. And, mercifully, to negate the rotting stench.

Your leg is carrying your weight now. Well, if you ignore the shooting pains whenever you straighten it. You have the wound bound tight and a fresh pair of leather pants to protect it. Sword in your lucky studded belt. Gloves over the bandages. Longbow strung across your back. A stake tucked behind you. One in your boot. One in your sleeve.

It doesn't feel enough.

"I'm gonna go reload those crossbows on the back door." you say as Jenny sets to work hacking into Warren's system. The air is static and sharp with ozone from her magic. Giles has really hit the jackpot with this one. Your mind wanders to Buffy, her eyes closed in bliss as the warmth of her breasts stroke against your chest. Her gasp, warm and sweet.

_Faith_.

"Hey Faith" Amy says as you pass her in the living room. Her eyes are red from crying, dirty blond hair damp at the tips from where she nervously sucks on it when engrossed in a book. "I'm really scared. I… "

"We won't let her win, Ames." you say. "We're gonna make her pay for what she did to Ken. Believe me. I will make her pay." she nods at you, sniffing. Tears trace down her cheeks.

"I never got to… she… Kennedy, these past weeks she just shut down. Pulled away, and just... shut me out. I should have been there for her. I wish…"

"Yeah." you say. "me too."

* * *

Night is coming. You feel it crawling down your spine as you sit in the living room, back to the wall. Facing the door. Compound bow notched, resting in your lap. You watch the orange glow dying through the holes you put through the window barricades.

Amy is curled up asleep next to you. Her many candles flickering gently around the sigil drawn upon the floor. Incense smoke curls lazily in the dying light.

Kennedy is dead. The Slayer is dead. Your limbs feel weak. Pathetically weak. You can smell your own blood drying. Kennedy is dead.

Amy murmurs in her sleep and shifts. A nightmare, perhaps. You place your hand gently on her hair, stroke gently.

'Oz. No.' she says, and then breathes in sharply. She does not wake, settles under your soothing touch.

You feel so tired. So sleepless. So numb. So sore. Horribly bored, yet your mind is a whirl. Things you could have done. Things you missed. Clues that could have made the world of difference. The bow feels heavy on your lap.

Giles is coming up the stairs. You count the steps as he wearily mounts them. Jenny follows along behind. She leans against Giles and buries her face into neck, wrapping her arms around him for comfort.

"She hid her tracks well." he whispers. "But we did get some information. Warren recorded it on a video camera. He realized he was being hacked before being turned. He was angry. Terrified. On the run."

"That why he abandoned April?" you say. Your voice is dry and raspy. You clear your throat.

"No." Jenny sighed. "Apparently before all that he found a flesh and blood girlfriend. April wasn't able to process this. She became unstable. Violent. He decided the safest way to deal with her was to just drop everything and leave town. Hoped her battery would die out soon enough."

"What an asshole." you grunt, carefully standing so as to not pull your stitches. "But if he left everything behind, what's with all this junk?"

"It's all brand new. Some of the books and components still have plastic wrap on them. Jenny found all the purchases happened within the last month. Perhaps The Blood Queen had him working on something under duress?"

"Five bucks says that's the girlfriend in the laundry sink." They both seem equally disturbed by the theory.

"No!" Amy yells, sitting bolt upright. Confused at her environment as she wakes. "Oz?"

"S'okay Ames. You just fell asleep."

"We could all use some sleep. I rustled us up some rooms under fake names for us all at a Motel. Sent a viral spell cast along too, should have printed out the sigil of warding. The Queen shouldn't be able to find us there."

"Okay. Let's motor."

The windshield of Gile's car has words written in blood. It simply says:

_Amy Maddison you look so cute when you sleep._

Amy shares your room at the motel. Her nightmares keep you awake until dawn.


	13. Prophecy Girl

**Chapter 12**

**Prophecy Girl**

You feel awake at a surreal level. Even as the day is grey and dismal, every raindrop seems pearlescent. The greenery screamingly vibrant. You can even feel the shape of your lungs when you breathe in the sweet, sharp, damp air.

Breathing feels like cheating. Eating too. You tear off the end of your breakfast burrito with your teeth. It's delicious, and you hate that.

The motel lies just off the 17 before you hit Eden Memorial Park. Funny how you navigate by graveyards these days. The diner next door served the best ribs in town. You remember them from the night you first Slew with Kennedy. It was so good to see another girl attack food with as much gusto as you.

Amy sits across from you in the diner booth, numbly stabbing at her meal. Third cup of coffee down. Giles and Jenny left an hour ago to alert the police. Sort out the mess.

A bell chimes as the diner doors open behind you. Amy drops her fork with a loud clatter and rushes into Oz's waiting arms. As she sobs into his chest, he looks to you with sad eyes and gives you a nod that speaks volumes. You nod back.

Dingoes are on tour. Oz is taking Amy with him to keep her safe.

You think of calling Buffy. Of rushing to her arms. But oh, of course that cascades into lies and defenses, wanting to pull her close, but also push her away and scream at her to run and keep running. The payphone catches your eye again. You do nothing.

The rain is still drizzling when you and Giles arrive back to his apartment. The note still tacked to the door. You rip it down and throw it as far as you can.

A sweep reveals nothing out place, no nasty surprises waiting.

Bitch.

April sits on the couch. Dead still. Eyes open, staring unfocused at the wall. It makes you feel all kinds ill. All kinds of angry.

Giles heads for the kitchen. You hear the sound of the kettle click on and cups being arranged on a tray. Then silence.

"Giles?"

Stake drawn, you cautiously edge towards the room.

"Giles?"

You creep closer to the doorway.

Giles is slumped against the kitchen table, his face red and quivering, a clenched fist pressed to his lip.

He roars and throws a cup against the wall.

You rush to him, kneeling at his side, holding him to you as he sobs, heavy, silent sobs that shake you.

"I went to make the tea." he whispers,when the sobbing subsides. "I made three sodding cups"

* * *

Kennedy's room is larger than yours. The sound of the rain on the roof, upon the window. Distant rumbles, gentle and quiet like merely the memory of thunder.

Her room is messy, but that is nothing new, her clothes strewn across the floor and dresser. A pale grey sports bra hangs from the handle of a spiked mace. The dartboard has a picture of principle Snyder pinned to it with shurikens. A small ceramic rabbit peeks out of the potted fern by the window. Her half sister's photo taped to her vanity mirror. The only hint she had any family at all.

You sit on the edge of the bed. The wall on your right and half of the wall behind you is filled with her drawings. Some from whimsy, many from her dreams. You can tell the dream ones as they are dated in thick black; the pencil darker where she frantically dug at the paper trying to seize the horrors she had seen before it bled away.

You no longer feel jealous of her gift.

Your eyes fall on the image of the pale woman rising elegantly from a well of blood.

* * *

Giles said the police seemed alarmingly casual about Kennedy's murder. Barely looked at her before chalking it up to "gang related: PCP". You hack in to get the report. Kennedy was long known to them as a troubled youth, rejected from her family for being gay, prone to violence, running with the wrong crowd. No one cared. Case closed.

* * *

You tap the last sequence into the laptop, check over your syntax. Satisfied, you hit compile and sit back, watching the rain against the window as you drink your coffee. The whiskey burns so good.

"Oh." April says, startling awake.

"Welcome back. Hope ya don't mind, but I switched out your dead battery with a power core. How do you feel?"

"I feel good. Really good. Strong." she says, observing her hands with curiousity as she lifts and turns them. "Thank-you Faith."

You unplug your laptop from her neck. The flesh closes seamlessly.

"But, I am confused." she says.

"How so?"

"I was looking for Warren. I distinctly remember that I spent a long time looking for Warren." she looks at you with perfect brown eyes. "It was vitally important to me that I find him."

"And now?".

"Now?" she furrows her perfect brow for a moment, before her perfect lips slowly stretch into an easy smile. She shrugs. "I don't give a shit about that pathetic little loser."

"Well…" you say with a grin "There's my girl."


	14. When She Was Bad

**Chapter 13**

**When She Was Bad**

The rain is still coming down hard. Like Kennedy's death ripped open the sky or something. Portents? Signs? Whatever. You swirl the stake in your hand and stare at the picture on Kennedy's wall. Twirl. Catch. Twirl. Catch. Twirl. Catch.

Downstairs, the answering machine takes the call.

_Faith? It's me. Again. Uh. Buffy. I'm… look, I know if I keep calling it's gonna come across all psycho, so I… just... I'm just… I'll be here. Yunno. If you need me. Always. Sorry._

_Faith?_

(Click)

Twirl. Catch. Twirl. Catch.

You feel coiled up. Bursting to release. Thunder shakes the house. You can feel the static in your hair. Down your spine. The tap, tap, tap of the overflow, joining the gurgle of water making its way down the zig zag stair down to Oak Park Street. You hear Giles breathing uneasily as nightmare things crawl through his drunken sleep.

Twirl. Catch. Twirl. Catch.

Screw this.

The door splinters under your boot, and you plunge into the room. The vampires that are lucky scurry back. Those that are not are screaming from the arch of holy water.

Kick. Punch. Slam. Stake.

The hot ashes hiss as they stick to your rain drenched flesh. A primal growl emanates from low your chest. Furious blows crush sickly vampire flesh.

Punch. Punch. Stake.

Kick, sweep, punch. Stake.

Block. Stake.

Stake.

They all fall before your rage. The last you have pinned high against the wall. She tries to snap and tear at your neck. Want a taste? You feed your forearm deep into its mouth, teeth shattering on the metal guard hidden under the leather. As it howls, you throw it clear across the nest, shattering makeshift tables and bottles.

You straddle the vamp, pinning it's arms under your knees. The vampire shifts back to human face, a sallow faced brunette, and tries to beg. Pathetic.

"Lucky last." you slam the vampire's head against the floor by the hair. "You're my next contestant in a game I like to call 'Talky walky'. Winner gets a one way ticket out of Sunnydale. Loser gets one way ticket out into the sunlight. Are you ready for your first question?"

The vampire nods eagerly.

"Who killed The Slayer?"

"The… uh… Queen. The Blood Qu..." it says.

"Herself?" The vampire tries to nod, swallowing.

"Ten points. Now, where is she?"

"M… Masters... lair."

"Bonus round. Where is The Master's Lair?"

"I can't… they… they will…"

"I would be more worried about what I am going to do to you sweetheart."

"Either way… good… as… dead."

You smile and let the vampire's hair go, stroke it back in place. Straighten her collar.

"Not how I see it. I have no qualms about letting a toothless little bitch like you high tail it across the border, if it means I get what I want. It isn't even a moral dilemma for me. See, thing about Vampire Slayers? You kill one, a new one just pops up. Sometimes two. Sometimes more. And we're all different. Kennedy? She was the good one…" you slam the vampire's head on the floor with a wet crunch "Me? I'm more on the murkier side of grey."

You sink your stake into the ground next to the vampire's eye.

"By killing one of ours, all The Blood Queen did was poke the hornet's nest. And now all the Slayers are coming to town. Ain't gonna be pretty. Question is? You want be a loyal pile of dust, or do ya wanna be in Mexico, sucking down some Tequila laced tourists?"

"The D...docks. Pier 2. Warehouse 2."

"We have a winner." you say, releasing the whimpering vampire. You sprint out into the rain.

* * *

The thing is, torture is notoriously bad when it comes extracting information. People tell you just what they think you want to hear. And vampires are just like people, only more so. Sure enough from your vantage point, snugly tucked inside a nearby crypt, you can see the vampire chick limping from the nest. Satisfied that you took her bullshit about the warehouses by the docks, she heads east towards Sunnydale High.

There's a hill south of the school, jagged and overgrown. A unnamed graveyard, barely a dozen tombs stand, no church. No new burials, so not even part of your patrol. You remember the sunken church. It all fits. You take cover by a gnarled tree and watch as she limps up the hill.

She opens a gate in one of the unmarked tombs, and disappears inside.

Literally. The tomb is empty when you enter. Just an ornate stone coffin on a dias in the middle, and various shelves of earns and bones. Perfect. Her wet footprints lead to a wall. A wet and bloody handprint on a flagstone.

You rattle the can and spray a big love heart on the wall. No missing it this time.

"Got you."

You add a stake into the heart for good measure.

* * *

The stairway down is all too familiar. Cobwebs thickly line the walls, rock walls created by shearing stone. Here and there the rainwater trickles through, streaking the tunnel walls red and spiking the air with a sharp bitter smell. Along your route, piles of human bones clad in all manner of clothes. Victims. You tread carefully.

Voices guide you through the last, darkest part. Your Slayer senses working overdrive, eeking what little you can from the near darkness. Two vampires guard an iron gate, the girl cowers before them.

"The Slayer!" the girl's voice is a hiss, wet and toothless. "Another is here... already. But I tricked her… I know where she is heading. I must warn our Master."

"A mere fledgeling? You are unworthy. I shall take him your message. Where is The Slayer?"

Your arrow strikes his heart, answering his question. The hellfire lights the tunnel, guiding your second shot. An arrow to the throat won't kill a vamp, but it will silence any calls for backup. Your third arrow ends your snitch; thrashing as she burns. You walk to where the guard is pinned, frantically trying to pull your arrow from his neck.

"Lemme help you with that." you say, yanking the arrow out then burying it in his heart. He can barely scream as his burning limbs disintegrate and mingle with the smouldering ashes at your feet.

* * *

There are far too many of them. From your vantage point you can count at least fifteen, but there could be more in the darkness. Hard to see because of the pillar of moonlight slicing down throws your vision out. The gathered vampires' chanting sonorous, reverberating off the rock walls and smashed church arches. You hide as best you can at the top of a long, curving stair of stone and rock, hidden among thick black roots that worm their way through the cavern roof. The nearest vamp is at least twenty meters, plenty of time to fall back… but your back is exposed. And you hate it when your back is exposed. You notch your last good arrow.

From the Shadows, The Master steps into the light. Regal, confident, he gazes down on his subjects. His disfigured hairless head, turning smoothly, slowly, his red eyes challenging all. The Master raises his hands and silence falls. You can hear the creak of your bowstring. Your breathing feels too loud in your skull.

"And there will be a time of crisis, of worlds hanging in the balance. And in this time shall come the Anointed, the Master's great warrior... The Five will die, and from their ashes the Anointed shall rise." The master intones as if reading from a holy book. "The Brethren of Aurelius shall meet him and usher him to his immortal destiny. ...the Slayer will not know him, will not stop him, and he will lead her into Hell."

"Well" he says, making a casual sweep of one hand. "Mostly right. Monks are terribly naive, and many have never seen a woman, let alone seen one wear anything but skirts." he chuckles. "Rest assured, the prophecy is upon us."

From the shadows, an oily black figure emerges. Feminine, graceful, her face hidden with a featureless black mask. You feel your breath hitch and your heart begins to hammer, the tip of your arrow wavers.

The Master beckons The Queen and she stalks proudly forward, kneeling centerstage. The Master bites his thumb and raises it to her helmed head, and as he draws upon the helmet, the symbol glows red. Distant thunder shakes the cavern.

"Behold, The Anointed One. My greatest weapon. No more will we cower in the shadows, slaves to night, for she sees beyond our dark age, to the future most unholy, where the blood of man shall flow like wine into our cups.

"She shall bring forth a new Age of Aurelius. Cower before her, my children, and heed her."

The Blood Queen stands.

"As of this moment I will return to my torpor until the coming of the Harvest. Into the world you shape in my image. The Anointed One shall rule as Queen until I rise again."

This revelation sets the gathered vampires into chaos. Voices sound confused, some outraged, some in awe. You spy Darla to one side, glaring in disbelief at the scene unfolding.

"Rejoice, my dark children." the black distorted voice says, as she raises her arms. "For the New Age of Aurelius is upon us."

Roars fill the room.

You think of Kennedy and breathe slow.

Your arrow flies.

You hit her heart.

And the arrow shatters into a thousand splinters.

The Queen looks up at you, and wags her finger, as her minions begin to mount the stair.

You run.


	15. Some Assembly Required

**Chapter 14**

**Some Assembly Required**

Rain like gunfire batters you back. Thorns tear and tangle. Everything seems to want you dead, drawing you towards fang and claw. _Fall. Be devoured. Rest._

No.

You hear the iron gate slam open, spilling out it's terrors into the graveyard around you. A rise of clouds flickers with purple lightning to your left, revealing jagged shadows moving. In moments the first is upon you, leaping from a gravestone, midair- you break your bow across its hellish face. No time to stake. _Run Lehane! Run!_

Break right, dodging death again; down, down to the road. Ankle takes the ditch hard. Bite your lip bloody. _Run! Run!_

Area industrial, you cut through the burnt out warehouse backing onto The Bronze. Green neon. The elements shaking the ruined tin roof so it thunders like an arena audience. You spin to meet your first combatant. Blood sport for the powers that be. Your fists tear bone from tendon, your stake quick to follow. Another and another challenge you, and you are more alive than ever to deal second death. Knuckles split, running pink with rainwater, flecked black with ash, pounding without mercy, pounding like your heart.

Make them all scream and cry. Make them die.

Four more smashed back to hell, but you are trapped. Grotesque inhuman silhouettes surround you. The scene grows still. Green neon flickers. Your breathing sounds inhuman. Clawing out of you. You taste blood and ash.

The vampires part behind you.

And she is there. Flickering neon on oily black. Metal claws glint shivers into your spine, down your back. Trace. Trace.

"Faith." She says, her voice a static pur. "So nice of you to come to my coronation."

You see Kennedy's eyes, unblinking and empty. You want to scream at The Queen, tear her apart with obscenity, but there are no words so sharp. So vile.

"Your blood will be my celebration toast, Slayer. I will drink you like champagne. "

She enters the makeshift arena with calm, confident steps. Her body taut, wrapped in synthetic fibres. A glint of silver metal where your arrow hit her heart. Armour. Her neck too.

So that's it. Faith Lehane. Died on a rainy night in some burnt out warehouse in a nowhere town. Gang related. PCP. File closed.

With a gesture, The Queen's finger blades snap out. And you ready yourself.

_Trace. Trace. Trace._

You have never felt pain like this. Never. And it comes again and again, unending, escalating. You feel your mind stretched upon it, like a wrack, turning and cracking and crunching, and you think that's it, that's the snapping point, but it turns onwards. Screams are not enough. Screams are…

The light is blinding, stabbing needles of rainbow through your optic nerves. You try to move, pull away, but you can't.

You feel a hand upon your shoulder, dull, warm, like hope. You focus on it. Anything to escape the… ohhhhh.

It feels like ice in your veins, but the pain shies away from it, like a vampire from sunflight. Oh mercy. Oh peace.

"Faith, keep still." The voice stays, so strange, so far away but you think it is Buffy talking to you. She is here in this place. "Please baby, keep still."

There are other voices too, some frantic, some calm, some in pain.

"Too much light" you try to say, although it feels like you are sending signals down a long tunnel. But maybe it is heard. Maybe you are coming through. Five by five. Maybe, because the light is fading.

Everything is fading.

And Buffy is here, in this place. Isn't she?

* * *

At a party a few years ago, you heard a girl whining about hospital food tasting like crap. You wanted to ram her silver fucking spoon down her three square meals a day throat. Hell, it would have been worth it to get three square in jail. Goddamn princess. You shovel the puree into your mouth and wash it back with orange juice.

"What is that like?" April says. She means eating.

"You can't miss what you don't know, babe."

"From the look of your face, it's like sex. I like sex." She says. Her smile vanilla sugar. You know she does. You have seen her code. Taught you a thing or two. You can't help but chuckle, which tugs at your stitches.

"Sure, guess it is." You say, and stuff a rolled up beef slice into your mouth with your one good arm. April nods satisfied, and returns to watching you quietly.

Giles appears at the door, his raincoat over one arm, a bag in the other. He smiles the way he has for the few days, bittersweet, tugging between relief and horror. They won't let you see a mirror yet, but you don't need to, your injuries are reflected in all their faces. It's bad. And you are a Slayer, so that bad is relative, right?

"I see your appetite remains unharmed." He says. "Which is good because…" he places a big bag of takeout on the folding table. The smell of the burgers is incredible. The taste? Better.

"Oh G Man, you are the best. This is amazing."

"Like sex." April nods sagely and then looks past Giles "Oh hello, Vi".

She edges into view and you feel your stomach lurch. The girl looks sheepish, short ginger hair curling up from beneath a colorful striped beanie. Gentle, uncertain eyes with delicate lashes. She is clutching a bunch of flowers for dear life. You can tell she is trying her best to not look horrified at your condition. Bless her.

Of course, you know instantly who she is. What she is. You can feel her dancing up and down your battered spine even now.

You shoot her the best smile the stitches of your shredded face can manage.

"You must be the new girl. Welcome to chosen one-ness."

* * *

You don't remember much of the fight. Fragments. Flashes. Flesh parting to metal. Fists cracking on black glass that felt harder than steel. Inhuman growls of pleasure. Mocking laughter. Bone shattering. Spinning neon green and rain in your eyes. The comfort of mother earth as she pulled you down to her embrace.

You don't remember how the hell you got out alive. None of the two months you spent in hospital. Comas are funny that way. April was at your side, reading you comics. Describing in detail each panel, the colors, the action and her thoughts on how strange she found it all. You wish you had been conscious of that. Created selfless, to serve, your upgrade gave her the ability to choose who she could be. The closest to free will you could manage. And yet, whilst you slept, she chose selflessness.

No, you don't remember Giles' car crashing into the vampires. April and this Vi girl leaping to your defense. Crosses, and crossbows and holy water. The crowd from The Bronze. The paramedics. None of it. Just the pain and the failure.

Vi looks so young. So sweet and innocent. It doesn't seem fair.

And it isn't. Is it?

You return home after another month, doctors amazed at your recovery, naturally. But the Faith Lehane that leaves Sunnydale General Hospital limps on a crutch. Arm in a cast. Graceful scars weave over your arms and legs, razor thin, precise. The Queen's caress permanently written across your left cheek, lid and lips.

A miracle, the doctors said. You don't think so.

"I want to be a Slayer." April says out of the blue. You both sit under a blanket on Giles couch watching shitty cable whilst Vi is out there, somewhere, alone against the darkness.

You don't need to look at April to tell if she is serious. She can't lie yet. Only omit.

You start to think of how to explain that she can't. Why she shouldn't. That it isn't something you can chose. But your innver voice sounds like your Father, and your Mother. Hell if you are going to let that spill out of your lips.

Funny thing is, the more you think about it, the more it makes sense. April has no fear. Super strong. Deceptively strong. Her skin able to heal fast. Bepatched up. Is selfless to a fault. She is used to being the tool of twisted men. Follows instructions blindly. The Council would love her.

Great. A sex bot is a better Slayer than you.

"Faith?"

"Why?" you say.

She tilts her head, smiles dreamily and says "I have no purpose now. But you do. You save people. you saved me." she says fondly. "What purpose could be better?"

You think of Vi out there in the darkness, alone.

"I have an idea." you say.


	16. School Hard

**Chapter 15**

**School Hard**

Giles is a warm hearted man in a cold hearted job. A Watcher descended of Watchers, disgusted by the whole affair, he rebelled in his youth. He wears his duty like a mask that doesn't quite fit. His true self glimpsed beneath it, here and there.

But as he sits in the living room tending to Violets wounds, it is like the mask has become him. You watch from the kitchen, looking for a hint of the man who showed you what a father should be. Could have been. Wasn't. But you don't see that man now.

"You should have been more careful. What were you thinking?"

"I'm sorry, I just thought…"

Tonight, Violet had seven shades beaten out of her by a couple of fledglings. Let herself be baited by a vamp playing victim. Rookie mistake. She got them, but paid heavily.

"If you had bloody thought, you wouldn't have walked right in, you stupid girl!"

"Giles." you say, limping in on your stick. "She gets it. Okay. She gets it."

He spins to meet you, tears his glasses aside. You meet his furious glare, square off against him as best as your broken body can. Something about your face these days unsettles him. Maybe it's the scars. Maybe it's in your eyes. Maybe you remind him of _her_.

Violet is sobbing.

"Go for a walk." You say. He nods, a hint of shame perhaps. He doesn't look at Violet.

"I think it best we skip morning training. Go home and get some sleep." He says as he stands in the doorway. He closes the door hard behind him.

Violet looks up at you with red eyes and purple bruises. But she needs something you cannot give. Never seen how. Maybe on TV. Aw heck.

"Look. He's being an asshole. But he's right. Maybe if I listened to my asshole Watcher I wouldn't look like this." You say. And he would be less dead. Violet looks like you have punched her, so you fumble onwards. "Fact is, you can't trust nobody. Keep your guard up. Watch your back. You stick your heart on your sleeve and some demon is gonna take a bite out of it, and that's just the fact red."

She nods. Here endeth the lesson.

But…

"I think he's scared." You say, slumping down onto the sofa next to her. "I mean, he is still being an asshole about it, but I guess he's scared of losing you like he lost Kennedy. Me too, I guess. He's hard on you because he has to be. None of us want to bury you."

"What was she like?" Violet says quietly. Ain't that a question? Just thinking of your months together, the rise and fall of your relationship, how you let her down. Who she saved and how she saved them. Dark brown eyes and a perfect brow. Her pining after a girl not so dissimilar to Violet. Lost in a vampiric tome, making notes in chicken scratch.

"A hero." Your smile is warm. "Just like you will be when we're finished with ya."

Violet was staying at the nearby motel. Giles just couldn't bring himself to empty Kennedy's room. She is still everywhere. It is like she haunts the house, but Violet is the ghost.

* * *

Today was the day.

Sunnydale had it's happy oblivious face on full bore and everything looked like some kind of California dream. Students where dicking around, chatting, doing what regular teens do. Giles pulled into his reserved spot, fetched your crutches from the boot and walked around to help you out of the car.

"Are you certain you are ready for this."

"It's highschool, not The Master's lair." you say. Maybe a low blow, but one for the both of you. Noone dared go down into that darkness. Violet was not ready. You had a lot more healing to do. Whatever The Queen was doing down there... you shudder.

"Any dizziness, any pains, come see-"

"I got this Giles. Go shush some students or whatever it is you Librarians do."

To be honest, you were not ready. This morning, you convinced yourself it was just you having cabin fever. Then you blamed it on April's incessant questions about life (which you yourself had thrown her into), but you knew just being there was making you ache to be anywhere but. Kennedy's room sat like Pandora's Box across from yours.

Sunnydale High meant distraction. A fantasy of the girl you thought you were becoming, growing in to. Just for a moment, before reality pruned your growth back with razor fingers.

And of course Buffy was in there, somewhere.

"Faith!" Amy cried out, rushing to you. "oooh... Give me a guide here, how hard can I hug? Can I hug? I need to hug!"

"Just avoid the bits with bone and skin and we should be good. Hey Oz."

Oz nods his greeting. He knows now. Amy confessed on the phone to you that she told him everything, and Oz being Oz had merely said "huh that explains quite a lot actually", and that was that.

It seems that life on the road with Dingoes has shaped Amy anew. Her hair is dyed black, run through with purple and blue streaks. Her clothing way more punk. Oz's leather cuff on her wrist now joined with ones of her own, friendship bands and something witchy with bird skulls. She wore a pentagram shirt unironically.

"Looking good Maddison" you say, tugging at her hair playfully. "Gonna work hard to please her Oz, or I may have to steal her away from ya."

You notice students looking at you and muttering.

"So" you say "whaddya think of my new scars? Going for the badass action hero look." You say. Hell, may as well slay the undead elephant in the room.

"I hear that is in this season" Oz says.

"But you adhering to the 'still breathing' trend? Good look on you, Lehane." Amy smiles.

"It's a classic for a reason." Oz says.

Oh. The cheerleaders are out on the field, practicing and chatting excitedly. Cordelia spots you and says something you cannot make out. They all turn and look at you. An image flits into your mind, just for a moment, so many yellow eyes snapping up to look at you.

from the cheerleaders, one girl steps forward hesitantly. Of course it is Buffy Summers.

"Hey Maddison, help me get my bag into my locker willya?" You say.

She nods, understanding all too well. And you turn around and head back.

An hour later you are sitting crying in a toilet stall. Crutches awkwardly across your lap. The painkillers are good, but they don't kill all types of pain. Well, not in the doses Giles gives you.

A tap at the door.

"Faith?" Says Buffy, softly. "You in there?"

You want to hold your breath until she goes away. Lie. Anything. An image of that little girl hiding in a cupboard. Biting on your sleeve to stay quiet. Your father roaring. Of doors slamming and shelving up ended.

Buffy knocks again.

"Faith?"

Hand trembling, you flip the latch.

"Oh Faith." She sighs. Pulling the door shut behind her. You don't care that your wounds complain, her arms feel warm and something close to safe.


	17. Inca Mummy Girl

**Chapter 16**

**Inca Mummy Girl**

You lay in the grass watching the shafts on light dance beneath the tree branches. The lawn fragrant, freshly mowed. Your feet bare, arms at your sides. Crutches cast aside for now.

Buffy lays next to you, propped on one arm. Her hair is longer now, bleached lighter. Her bangs grown out. She is doing that thing again that she does, head tipped to the side, not so much waiting for you to speak but giving you the space to.

"Yunno, Snyder's gonna kick your out if you skip out of class every time I let stuff beat me." You say. "Not that this isn't appreciated."

"You are worth a few smears on my otherwise unblemished record, Faith." She smiles. "Oh, that and a pack of wild dogs ate Snyder a month back. New Principal's name is Woods. He's a softy."

"For real?" You say.

"Oh yeah, waaay soft. Last week, in first period he totally let Cordel-"

"I meant the dogs bit."

"That's what the papers say. Strangest thing, doncha think?" She pulls a little weed up between her slender fingers and twirls it around idly. "I mean, what would voluntarily eat a bitter little goblin like Snyder? Beats the hell outta me."

Sunnydale, man. You have to laugh.

"What else I miss?"

"New flavour of Gatorade."

"Huh."

"Blue."

"Cool."

"I am guessing you don't want to talk about what happened?" Buffy says, laying down on her belly. You nod.

"May I ask just one question."

"Buffy..."

"See, I just keep running everything over and over in my head. Every moment together. Everything I said. And… I can't solve it. It's like the more I try to escape, the more wrapped up I get. I just… it all just comes down to this one question."

"Okay."

"What did I do wrong?"

You are sick of silence and lies. You think about Amy and Oz, and how close they looked. How accepting he was. Too accepting. It was gonna get him killed.

"I am trying to understand. Was it shame? Are you… is it because I'm a girl?"

You shake your head. Buffy rolls onto her back, further from you. She looks up at the sky and releases a huge breath.

"I got mixed up in something. Real bad. Kennedy too. It got her killed. Put me in hospital. I just didn't want you… I can't let you risk… "

"This bad thing?" She says, green eyes locked to yours. "What if I could help?"

"That's just it. You can't." You realize your mistake being here. You sit up painfully and reach for your crutches.

Buffy pulls them away. Tosses them behind her.

"Shit Buffy, what the hell-"

"No. Not till you hear me out."

"Give them back.

"No." She growls "You. You don't like to feel weak. You are the tough girl. Nothing gets to you. Right?"

"Give me the crutches"

"You don't want to be weak because that gets you hurt. Because people always hurt you when you let that guard down, right?"

"BUFFY!"

"How do you think I felt Faith? Not knowing? Not being able to help? When… when I find out that… that… my… you are in a coma. That your sister has been… and I can't reach you. Can't do anything? I felt so powerless."

"What can you do? What exactly can you do to stop this… this… constant loss… this constant… pain and fear and... Do you think you can save me? Poor little Faith? Is that it? Does helping the trailer trash girl up when she falls make you feel special?"

"That isn't fair."

You try to stand, so help you, but your leg gives way. Sharp, like a tendon. You are gonna land hard, but Buffy has you in an instant. Strong arms catch you, guide you back to the grass effortlessly. Perhaps you should wonder at that, but her face so close to yours, hazel eyes almost emerald, flashing brightly with tears and anger.

Your kiss is painful. Hot. Cruel. Selfish. But necessary in that moment, absolutely necessary. Her lips swollen and soft, the kiss grows tender. Her grip shifts, she hovers over you, no weight upon your broken and battered body, but her warmth spills into you. The touch of her hand velvet and cool against your hot cheek.

"I'm so scared." You whisper. "I am so scared."

"Me too." She says. "Just let me in"

"And what? Get you killed to? I ain't worth that."

"That's my choice to make, doncha think?"

She offers you your crutches.

"Come, I wanna show you something."

* * *

Buffy's house is like a museum. Clean, open, bright, with furnishings that seem brand new, hardly used. Her room is anything but, with a comfy bed and worn dressers, clothes and makeup strewn here and there. Yet down here in this section you feel like an alarm will sound if you so much as breathe on any of the artifacts or paintings.

"Here it is." She says, rather nervously. The wall contains a black picture, a meter square. A nebulous white round form in the centre. Like a galaxy.

"What is it?" You say. Art isn't exactly your thing.

"It's an x ray. Of a mummy. See, that's where her head is… see the teeth? Jaw... you can make out the jewellery. Her hands. See?"

You nod.

"Mom had a bunch of these at the gallery, large prints of ancient mummies from all over the world. But I begged her to keep this one. I know. Morbid much, but- she just sings to me."

"She?"

"An Inca girl. Maybe a princess. No one is sure. She was a human sacrifice. See the white things? That's trinkets offered along with her to the gods. She is bound up in a bundle."

She smiles and sits back on a pristine leather couch, stares at the giant print with a rapt, distant expression.

"After my dad left, I got mean. Like, you have no idea. Cordelia on her worst day? Not even close. I hurt a lot of people. It was like a big game to me. I played them off against each other intentionally. So cruel. It makes me sick now to think what I did.

"One day. There was an accident. I got trapped… into this tiny dark space. I screamed and I yelled for help. But no one could hear me. Hours became days.

"I cried, I raged, I slammed my fists. It didn't matter. It was just me and the dark. Curled up. Exhausted. Thirsty. My world shrank down to this little, lightless space. Just me and my thoughts. And I couldn't escape them. No distractions. No games. Just me and what I had done. Who I was.

"They got me out, eventually, but by then it had shaped me. I wasn't the same. I just shut down as a person after that. No one cared. I had hurt so many people. All my once friends hated me. Feared me. Sunnydale offered a new start. To live in the light. And I took it."

You look back at the x ray. That frail skeleton swimming in the darkness, fabric like a ghost, useless trinkets scattered about. The skull fractured, eye socket caved in, fragments flying like stars. And then, it takes on another form. Like a baby in the womb. You think of Buffy in the darkness, becoming someone new.

You remember the blood pool. Remember being forced down. You remember your mind screaming all kinds of things before you died. Before Merrick revived you.

A baptism in blood. But what where you reborn to?

Buffy is looking at you now, her hazel eyes seem to see deep into you.

"I got the chance to go again." She says. "This life? However short or painful, this life I know when I die, for whatever reason, I absolutely know that I lived it right. That I made people laugh, and smile, that I gave myself over to what I found important, no matter how trivial or ridiculous others may find it. That I lived and loved out in the light."

Buffy looks back at the X Ray. "She never got that choice. Every single day, I do."

You take a seat next to her. Laying your crutches down onto the floor. She pulls your hand into into hers, and rests her head on your shoulder.

"So do we get a do over?" You say.

And she smiles.

Amy and Oz swing by in his van to collect you from Buffy's place because Giles is training Violet in the school gym late tonight. If the vampires don't kill her, his training regime will.

Amy has quite the voice, singing along to Pixies on the radio. When the song ends, she wrinkles her nose up and flicks her fingers.

"And now Pearl Jam and- oh, that's odd… well, I guess it's Pixies. Again. What is up with our equipment tonight? More like gremlins than Pixies. This is so strange…"

"Isn't it like an abuse of power, Madds?" You say.

She just winks at you and starts belting out the lyrics. Oz's lovestruck smile is very similar to his usual one. But you both can tell the difference.

April is powered down when you get back. She lays on the couch, legs tucked up and a blanket over her. Giles found her just sitting staring into the distance as too disconcerting. She now pretends to sleep, having watched you. The fact she is copying you exactly at one of your most vulnerable moments is kinda weird. But weird is relative these days.

Your bed is comfy and you groan as you sink in.

You dream of the inca mummy girl. But she is Kennedy, limbs tucked in like she is asleep, her hair gliding around her, floating in the deep red pool. Spiraling slowly. The light fading until there is nothing but her bones shimmering white.

And then you are sitting beside the well, a perfect black circle, moonlight catching on the gentle ripples. And you put your head down to drink from the waters. They cool your burning throat, and you feel life flooding through your limbs. You wake serene, with tears cold on your cheeks.


	18. Reptile Boy

**Chapter 17**

**Reptile Boy**

The irony of Devon MacLeish's death was not lost on the newspapers, who hammered it home with cruelty. The Founder and lead singer of "Dingoes Ate My Baby" was found, partially eaten by wild dogs.

Yes, another victim of the mysterious Sunnydale 'wild dog problem'.

It was a werewolf.

You had met Veruca St.Claire, lead singer of local band Shy, whilst hanging out with Oz and Amy. She set your teeth on edge even then, but she wasn't a vampire, so you just put it down to her predatory vibe.

It is weird to think back on that night, all of you laughing and joking, Oz and Veruca arguing about music. Devon drooling over Veruca. Amy subtly switching chairs to put herself between Oz and Veruca. Simple teenage life. A strange tableau compared to how things would unfold.

That not long from then, Veruca would slaughter and feast on Devon's innards. That Amy would trap Veruca with black magic whilst it was Oz who would decapitate her with your own silver coated sword. And all this whilst you were in a coma.

It was Veruca who ate Snyder. He gave her detention on a full moon. she simply locked the door and let un-nature take its course.

You can't help wonder at it all, really.

The remaining Dingoes decided to keep going after Devon's funeral, but it didn't seem right to keep the name, tasteless enough as it was. So they picked a new name to remember him by. A nickname he won on tour for something he did that band refuse to share: a secret that they just snicker amongst themselves before looking sad.

And so, _Reptile Boy_ are about to play their first gig tonight. The new line-up featured Sara, formerly of Veruca's band _Shy_ on backup vocals and keyboards. It was also the debut of their new lead singer.

Amy Maddison.

Nervous as she was before the gig, none of that is apparent on her face now, as she strides into the spotlight. Her own personal cheer team, comprising of Buffy, Violet, April and yourself roar as stomp as she takes the mic.

Oz cuts through the chatter with a single held note. Strong and clear. Amy growls and unleashes into the first verse of 'Pain'.

_Feeling, I've been lost for years_

_You could never understand me_

_Unless you've seen those tears_

_But you never get to sleep..._

Amy's voice is like sex electric. Dingoes fans, who until this point seemed dubious of the new line up, cheer, and rush to the pit. _Reptile Boy's _sound resonates through each and every one... new songs sing of the lost of Sunnydale, the fears for the missing, the need to snatch the fire of life whilst you are alive. The Bronze is alive tonight and so are you.

Some boys have pulled Violet and April up to dance. Violet looks at you in panic, but you wave her on.

Buffy meets your gaze, her eyes dark with kohl, tanned cheeks sparkling with glitter. You feel her hand meet yours under the table. The third song ends, and newxomer Sara plays a slow haunting pattern of eight notes on her keyboard. Amy shares a sad smile with her and takes the mic.

"As you know, both Shy and Dingoes lost people dear to us this year. So many of us have, haven't we? Life can be cruel. But we go on. Together. Become something new together. This next song is from Shy."

The audience applauds and falls respectfully silent. Veruca was a monster. A murderer. And they will never know.

The music flows over you all, a sexual melancholy. Amy's voice is a fragile purr.

Buffy turns to you again and lifts your hand up over the table. A gentle tug. She stands.

"Do you think you can?" She says.

"Yes. I can." You say, and rise carefully.

She clasps both your hands, taking a lot of your weight on her strong arms. She is drawing you to an unlit corner of the floor, but you have other ideas. You pull her into the middle. Front and center where all can see. She smiles at this, nodding her consent. You draw close and embrace. Linking her arms low behind your back, again taking some of your weight as you sway.

_I step out of my skin_

_You wouldn't know me now_

_Couldn't you go away_

_Shouldn't I?_

She has you. You are held. In arm and gaze. So captivated by her, held in her gravity, like her atmosphere is a bubble around you both.

_I won't be_

_Your soft one_

_I won't be encircled_

_You might become_

_Something I need_

_And you must know_

_Must know_

_Get closer_

Amy seems to be singing for you both. Buffy tenderly kisses your cheek as you dance. No one seems to challenge. No one attacks. You turn, back to her breast, her arms encircle you, stroke down your body in a way no one can interpret as anything other than sexual, possessive.

_Should I go away_

_With the dust of your heart_

_In my mouth_

Your hand finds her neck, your fingers tracing her pulse point. You hear her moan against your ear. Her hand presses into hips, pulling you to her.

_Don't show me your weakness_

_I can't rely on you_

_To know my soul_

When you turn back, there is nothing that could hold you. Your kiss is not defiant to the world. It simply is. And the world ceases to matter.

It's unspoken, but you don't need words to convey your mutual need. You leave the Bronze, bound for Buffy's house. And the song plays on as you head out into the darkness.

_Don't show me your weakness_

_I might become_

_Something you need_

_Something you need_

_Something you need_

_To destroy_.

**Notes from the author:**

Hey readers. I usually cringe at songfics, but I figured it wouldn't be BTVS without the band playing at The Bronze scene.

I selected tracks from the show itself.

Lyrics taken from:

Pain by Four Star Mary (aka Dingoes Ate My Baby)

Need to Destroy by THC (aka Shy)

Go listen, go buy, support these artists.

I would love to read some comments on the story.


	19. Halloween

**Chapter 18**

**Halloween**

Something is bugging you. Sitting at the back of your brain, even as you lay in Buffy's arms, listening to her rather adorable soft snores. Something like a memory from a dream that wasn't quite swept clean by the morning. Hard to grasp by there.

Buffy shifts and nuzzles into you, but she is long from waking. You try to close your eyes. Rest. Enjoy the warmth.

_Orb_.

Kennedy was reading about an orb. A history of magical artifacts. She wrote pages of notes. You never did find out what that was all about.

"When things are hiding, you need to pay close attention to the details." Merrick had told you. "Even an invisible demon leaves footprints."

You bite your lip harshly. You stopped caring after you died. It wasn't your responsibility, was it? Kennedy was The Slayer. Giles The Watcher. Those pieces, those footprints belonged to them. Allowed you to go numb, stop looking. Just kill the things. Rinse. Repeat.

So what else? Orbs. Blood Wells. Robots. Roses. Darla. The Scourge. So many things you had let slide.

"You have let yourself be blind" Merrick said. "You may as well be blind."

* * *

The morning comes, and Buffy walks you home to Giles'. Tomorrow is Halloween, a fact everyone except Giles seem to be thrilled about. Buffy has her reservations too, she has left costume shopping to last moment. You were not going to dress up, but she convinces you that she will make it worth your time. You both agree to head into town later and find that new costume shop Amy mentioned.

* * *

Your laptop clicks and whirs as it crunches through the tasks you have set it.

The Queen has been notable by her absence. And that scares you. Whatever she is up to for "the New Age of Aurelius" it is extremely under the radar.

You are looking for a trail. A hacker at work in Sunnydale. A slip up. A trace. Something that would give you an idea of her movements.

You weave your web better. Cover your tracks as you go. Walk softly. Be thorough. Hard when your head is fuzzy from the painkillers. You try to cut through that with coffee.

Your bots show vamp killings are down, unexplained events down. You track for disturbed graves. Robberys. Anything.

The thing that grates on your nerves is that it would be so easy for her to take you out. Take all of you out, and yet she doesn't. Why?

Perhaps a smashed up invalid and a green-gilled Slayer pose less threat than whoever would step in to replace you both. It makes sense. But how could she know?

Why was Warren so important to her? Was he making her something? Did he make her suit?

And another thing. She knew your name on sight.

You had the feeling that something was coming for you. Something big. Something really bad.

Physio twice a day. You growl and wince through the pain, stretch, swim and at the end of it all, take the painkillers like a good littld Slayer.

This search was getting you nowhere. You leave it running and hunt for the book Kennedy was taking notes from.

Orb of Thesula. It is in the index, but the page is missing. Torn out.

You return to your laptop and open a search. Orb of Thesula. You get a hit, and note down an address.

Time to go shopping.

* * *

Buffy is taking her sweet time deciding in the costume shop, so you tell her you are running an errand.

The last thing you expected was to be greeted by A Cordette at The Magic Box. But there she was, Anya Jenkins, large as life.

"Welcome customer, we have- oh, it's you." She says, her face falling, then she remembers something. "Just so you know," she makes little air quotes "'we all support you and Buffy' rah-dee-rah." She nods, mentally checking something off her list.

"Uh, thanks Anya." you say, somewhat bewildered.

"But just so you know, I am firmly heterosexual. I love men. Well, actually I hate them. They are lowly dogs, not to be trusted, of course. You should buy something."

You chuckle. There is something so endearing about Anya. Perhaps she reminds you of April, if April ever became bitter and verbose. You pull out your scrap of paper.

"What can you tell me about a… an Orb of Thesula?"

"That it retails for $49.95. Which is a bargain. You should buy it."

"Do you know what it does?"

"Well, it makes an excellent paperweight. Oh and it goes all glowy and stuff when a human-" She looks sharply at you. "Like what I am, of course… when us humans hold it."

She pulls a cloudy glass sphere about the size of an egg out of an ornate box. Sure enough it glows in her hand. She seems somewhat satisfied and yet disappointed by this.

"So that's all it does?" You say.

"Well possibly not, but all that Kalderash magic is half mumbo jubbily joo joo and frankly embarrassing." She has a thought and scowls "Don't get me wrong, they did pull off some great stuff back in 17th century Hungary, but boy they harp on about the glory days. That is the problem with oral magics. Worst game of chinese whispers ever. You have really ugly facial scars now. You are lucky Buffy doesn't find you abhorrent."

"Yeah." You say. April says stuff like that too. You have gotten good at shrugging it off.

"We have a potion for scars. It isn't very effective but it is cheap, and I am told it is a very good placebo."

"I'll just take the orb, thanks."

The bell rings, and Buffy enters. She looks around the shop with a sneer before she notices you. She smiles.

"What's that?"

"It's a gift… for Amy."

"Hello recently gay Buffy." Anya smiles. "It's an Orb of Thesula."

Buffy looks uneasily at the weird giant marble in the box. "You never told me you were into all this kind of stuff." She says, her brow raised. She looks rather ill at the idea.

"Nah." You say. "Don't worry babe. I ain't about to join a cult or go around sacrificing roosters or anything. Amy loves this shit. Part of her whole rock witch vibe." But Buffy seems unconvinced.

"S'okay Buff, It's just a cool paperweight, s'all."

"Oh yes, it is quite useless." Anya says, counting the money out into the till. She hums happily to herself.

Still, Buffy's heebies are contagious, and you catch yourself holding the box very carefully all the way home.

* * *

Violet is dressed as an elf, complete with green leather armour and quite convincing ears. She says it's from a computer game you have never heard of, but Oz knows it and comments on how authentic and detailed her costume is. You know the two swords on her back are very real, very sharp and blessed against evil. Because though Giles is confident the undead find Halloween all too gauche and stay inside, your distrust is rubbing off on Violet. Last night she took that boy back to her hotel, and kicked his ass to the curb this morning. She looks refreshed and empowered. A spring in her elven stride.

Amy has gone for the whole sexy black cat thing, and boy, she is pulling it off.

Oz has gone all out with his costume too. He is wearing a label that says "Hello my name is: God". You wish you had thought of that.

Whilst everyone is in the living room helping a reluctant Giles decorate, Buffy is in your room helping April get ready. She sits admiring herself in the mirror, squealing with joy. A real princess in a pink ballroom gown. Buffy says she enjoying her new life sized doll. Blissfully unaware of how close to the truth she came.

You are a Princess too, though your white dress is from a galaxy, far, far away. Earlier that day, Buffy braided your hair and carefully pinned two buns on either side of your face. It took three attempts because, you know, of all the necessary sex and stuff.

"So what are you going as?" April asks Buffy. "You are coming to the dance, right?"

"Actually, I am not feeling so good. I may have to give it a miss tonight." Buffy says. You feel your heart sink. She was awfully quiet after running into Anya.

"There." Buffy says, finishing with April's Tiara and leaning back to admire her work. You see April beaming at her reflection. "How do you feel?"

"Like a Princess." April grins. Buffy tugs a strand of coiled hair across her face so it sits just so.

"Perfect. Every girl should get to feel like a princess. Even just for a short while."

Her eyes meet yours in the mirror, and they are filled with sadness.

* * *

April Shonda Spears, as far as everyone is told, is your cousin. And yes, she picked that surname herself after you talked down her first suggestion "sun". She was happy when you hacked her into official existence. Her "replacement ID" appeared yesterday, much to her joy.

Violet has latched onto April like a shield. Plus, April came preinstalled with "listen sympathetically". Something Violet needed. They walked on ahead, April's head nodding as Violet spoke.

Jenny has Giles and Oz has Amy. You feel the absence of Buffy.

Instead, you focus on all the adorable little monsters racing around the street filling up on candy. Parents following on, watching their little darlings trick or treat obvious to the real horrors out there. You tick off the monsters you know to be real. Vampire, check. Witch, check (Amy scoffs at the green skinned little girl), Werewolf, check. Leprechaun, myth. Demon, check. Gill monster… well, Violet had a story about the swim team whilst you were all sleeping beauty, so check that one off too. April gave an awful lot of her candy to a little girl dressed as a robot.

Sunnydale High is decorated spectacularly tonight. The Halloween Dance committee have outdone themselves.

And yes, someone had already spiked the punch bowl, bless them. So at least something will keep you warm tonight as you watch all the monsters dance.

The music lulls to a slow song, and you swallow back another cupfull. The party winding down. You sway as best as you can on your crutches.

But then...

Buffy is leaning against the fire escape. She smiles as you notice her, and hooks her finger into her gunslinger belt. Waggles her brow. She looks amazing as she sauntered over to you.

"I'm here to rescue you, Princess." She says with a terrible drawl. You put your crutches against the wall and reach for her.

"That was Luke, not Han. Dork." You smile as she takes you hand and spins you into an embrace. she dips you, not enough to hurt you but enough to make you squeal. Buffy knows just how to handle you. "I mean, either way I get a kiss… so…"

She obliges.

"So feeling magically better?" You say as you dance.

"Yeah" she blushes. "I'm really sorry. I was a dick. I realized I was panicking. Just being stupid. Anya calling me gay so flatly… it... just kinda spooked me." she sighs. "Besides, I guess if she knows, everyone knows."

"I think Cordy had stern words with them. To accept us. Strangely enough."

"Wow." She says, genuinely surprised. "She has layers."

You both chuckle. You feel her fingers loosening in yours. See her shoulders lose a little bit of that tension. You catch Amy looking rather shocked at you, but Oz notices and whispers something to her. She mouths "no way!". She makes a "metal" gesture to you.

"Well, Fai… since no pitchforks and angry mobs await us, what say we run with it?" She says.

"How so?" You say. As she turns you, you spot Giles and Jenny. To your surprise, Jenny stares in horror at you both. Her fists are curled. Man, she would have been the last person you expected. You steer Buffy away from her glare.

"How about we start with... will you, Faith -no-middle-name- Lehane, take me, Buffy Anne Summers, to be your official date to the prom?"

"You are such a dork" you say, but kiss her deeply. You ignore the wolf whistles.

"I shall accept that answer as a 'hellyes."


	20. Lie to Me

**Chapter 21**

**Lie To Me**

The bell rings and around you all the students begin to pour out of Jenny's class. You remain, bad leg propped up on the desk in front of you, arms folded. Jenny notices, and stops packing her bag. She sits quietly whilst the room empties, eyes locked on yours.

You are alone now. The classroom echos as the students race down the halls. The sound dying away to silence.

"So. You got something to say about me and Buffy, you gonna say it now."

"Have you told her what you are?"

"No."

"You swear?"

"You get on Amy's back like this when she told Oz? Seemed to me you where all five by five about that, so, I think this is another deal altogether, and I gotta tell ya Jenny, for all your crap about open mindedness, you sure aren't walking your talk."

"No, you don't understand! I... wouldn't... butBuffy's dangerous. She is using you. Tell her nothing. Stay clear of her."

"Wait, lemme guess, you taught at Hemry High before."

"Faith… you have no idea what she is capable of. What she has done."

"I know Buffy's past. She told me what she did."

"She… has?"

"You don't know what happened to her, do you? How she changed? She lives with the shame. All she wants is a new start, to bring joy and kindness and from where I am sitting, she is doing a mighty fine job at that."

"She is manipulating you." Jenny says, slamming her hands on the desk.

"Newsflash, everyone does! Thats life. That's people, sweetheart."

You grab your walking stick and stand, wincing at the sharp reminder, but do your best to storm out. Jenny springs up seizing your arm and pulling you close.

"Faith, please… I beg you. " she whispers harshly, eyes darting about the coridoor at the stragglers.

"Listen up. You think you know me? You know shit. You have no idea what I am capable of. You keep your nose out of my private life Jenny, or I will remove it. We clear?"

You glare at her hand on your arm, and swear to god think about crushing it there and then. Jenny releases you, her body trembling, her face red.

"We're done here."

* * *

People are liars. Of this you know. But love is the greatest liar of all. And Kennedy had been in love.

You hold a few strands of hair up to the shaft of sunlight and Giles watches it glow blue, ignite, turn to ash.

"How is this possible?"

"I think it's pretty obvious. Kennedy had a ginger vamp in her bed. Ten bucks she was getting love bites from a chick called Willow Rosenberg." You say.

_The chick you should have saved had you not been so careles._

"But Kennedy was careful, she knew not to invite-"

"She knew she was a vamp Giles. She just didn't care."

He started to protest but stammered to a halt. He knew it wasn't just possible, but all the evidence pointed to a big black hole in the household. A gaunt ghost of a girl, where one burned with passion and such intense life, slowly fading, disappearing before all your eyes. And none of you, for different reasons, none of you reached out to help her.

You pick up a few more strands from the bed. Ginger tangled in amongst the brown. Roses tangled in a deformed skeleton. As you drop them in the light, the red catches fire, as it hits the bed, the brown melt and curl away.

You look to the pictures on the wall. Among the non prophecy pictures, a candid shot of the girl in question. Another, more sensual, much changed, sly smile, dark eyes filled with mischief.

"This has been going on a while." You sigh.

"How could I be so blind?" He says, perching on the end of the bed. "I failed her. I should have paid more attention. I am failing all of you."

"Look around Jeeves, we are all failing here. Vi ain't exactly got the killer instinct thing, and I am pretty sure next to the definition of failed slayer in the watcher's diaries is a picture of me."

"Faith, you are not."

"Really? You know how Merrick really died?"

"I do."

"Then why am I here? How can you even stand to look at me?"

"Because you did the right thing. You did what you had to do to survive, Faith. It was the right thing."

"How can you say that? He-, pulled me off the streets, fed me… he… saved my life countless times… and I... how can you say that?"

"A Watcher's life means nothing compared to The Slayer's. We all know the risks and sacrifices of the job. The Slayer, our Slayers, are the most important thing, the most vital thing."

"But I strangled him Giles. I… looked him in the face and… Kakistos told me to strangle him. And I did it. I looked in right in the eye and did it."

"I know."

Giles wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. Your face is hot, and you realize the alien sensation of tears flowing from you. He cannot see you cry, your head against his strong chest. But he must know. He must. And shame burns your flesh and muscles.

"He would have been so proud of you Faith. Who you have become. Your strength, your bravery. Believe me, I read his diaries, and every word, every single word brims with pride and awe at you Faith. How resilient and remarkable you where."

"He never said… he… I… oh god I killed him Giles. I killed him."

"Listen to me very closely. If you had to make that choice again- take my life to save yours? Do it. And don't think for a second I would be anything but willing and proud. You really are remarkable, in every way."

"I feel so ashamed." You say. "I miss him. The cruel bastard, I miss him."

Giles holds you as you sob, saying soothing things and stroking your back. For a moment you imagine slipping your fingers around his throat, that sickening joy, that power as you crush the life from a man as your demon part bays for it. And you cry out and sob harder. What are you? Why do you think these things? How could you do these things?

And when the sobbing abates and you pull away, rubbing at your face merely to hide it from him as you make for the door.

You stop, gesture to the room, and say "you know, all this isn't fair on Violet. Keeping all this while she sits in that shitty motel. She should be here with you."

"You're right of course. But all this… it's all clues."

"It's more than that. You can't let her go, can you?"

He thinks about it in silence.

"Then… let me go." You say. "I will find somewhere close by, and Violet can have my room. I will take April and find somewhere."

"I will talk to the council. See what we can arrange. Fortunately, real estate in Sunnydale is rather affordable, what with all the deaths and all."

"In the meantime, I'm gonna pack, we can switch Vi over tonight. April and I will take the motel."

"And I will call Amy, see if she can renew the spell of hearths to uninvite this Willow."

"Wait" you say "there is one more thing. Do you know what an Orb of Thesula is?"

* * *

Amy, Giles and you were in full research mode when Oz and Violet arrive. And Bless them, they are carrying boxes of doughnuts and coffee. It isn't until you bite deeply into the chocolate shell that you realised just how stretched thin and depleted your body is. You wash some painkillers down with sweet strong coffee. Violet is watching you with sympathetic eyes, you give her a wink.

"So" Giles says, "what do we have so far?"

" Orb of Thesula are forged from Gypsy magic." You say.

"Roma magic. Gypsy is a slur and a misnomer." Amy points out, in a rather curt sing-song manner, it's the third time she has had to remind the group.

"Yeah, that. So these folk use them for temporarily holding souls of the dead in various rituals" You say. "We can't find any spells because they were supposedly not written down. Anya said something about that too when she sold it to me. Oral tradition. Kalder- something."

Giles pulls a book from the shelf and flips through.

"Kalderash. A Roma clan. There are references to them in the watcher diaries during the Kingdom of Hungary, although there are missing pages… I… yes, here, during a power struggle within The Order of The Dragon- that is a vampire house, like Aurelius here. Various Gypsy… excuse me… Roma clans were involved on both sides."

He flips through as you eat. Thank the PTB for jelly doughnuts, though it doesn't make up for the flaming wreckage of your life, it definitely is a check in their favor. Giles gives a little 'aha!' stabbing a page, and reads aloud.

"Such fury and grief at the loss of their favoured of favoured, the daughter most dear, The Kalderash Clan cursed the vampire responsible to suffer eternal, under the burden of her grief."

"Vampire's don't feel guilt for their actions." Amy says. "That would require a conscience."

"A soul." Oz says, looking at your Orb sat in it's wooden box on the table.

"What if The Kalderash used this somehow to give this vampire her soul back?"

"It would explain the link between the Orb and vampires" Amy says.

"Kennedy was trying to give Willow back her soul." Giles says.

You silently sit in your thoughts. Typical Kennedy. Always trying to save people. It fits. It all fits.

"Can't help but notice the use of "her" there." Oz says. "Are we thinking this could be our Queen?"

"Maybe Kennedy cast the spell… maybe she inadvertently broke the spell on The Blood Queen." Amy says.

Giles pops the lid on the white board marker and adds 'Kalderash', 'Hungary' and links it back to 'The Blood Queen'.

Amy sits up suddenly. "I know Jenny poo-pooed it, but Báthory was hungarian. Was she about the time of this Dragon Order throw down?"

"The King Vampire at that time was Dracula."

"You're shitting me!" You say. "He's real? Get outta here."

"Yes, he is quite real. Or was, at least. He was believed to have been defeated by The Slayer at the time, whoever she was, but we simply don't have those pages. Which is incredibly disappointing. I would have loved to have read them. By all accounts he was quite a fascinating foe."

"Long shot, what if Bathory took over as boss in those gaps?" Amy says

"Possible, but no evidence." Giles says. I mean, Báthory was a contemporary of Dracula… well, he lived before her birth but she ruled during the period he was recorded to have been active. But that's the only link we have. Tenuous at best."

"Imagine if we could ensoul vampires instead of killing them." Amy said.

"They would still need to feed." Giles said, pondering the concept. "And a soul only gives the free will to choose good. Plenty of people have souls and do evil. A soul isn't a cure."

"Well, Kennedy must have had an Orb to cast the spell, and somehow found the spell."

"I could track down the Kalderash clan, see if we can find who-"

The library doors slam behind you.

"Wha- was someone listening?"

But by the time Violet gets to the door, whoever it was, had vanished.

* * *

Buffy greets you at the gates at your usual spot. She casually links her arm through your non-cane arm and plants a soft kiss on your cheek.

"Look at you, all up and about." She smiles. "All that crazy focus on physio paying off I see."

"You know me, nothing if not dedicated." You say. You feel her arm tighten around yours slightly.

"Cordelia and the girls miss you, wanted to know when you think you will be back to practice."

"I… don't know if that's a good idea."

"Why? You are healing fast. You love cheering. The girls all accept us dating. Well, maybe not all of them, Harmony has turned into a glare factory, but Cordy keeps them in line… oh, and not to blow my own, but I am there too. Added bonus, if I don't say so myself."

You chuckle. She is so adorable. But still, with Violet not being able to hold her own yet and Giles grieving, maybe it is time you focus more on Slaying. But what to say to Buffy?

"Doc says I may never be the same. I just don't like the idea of letting the squad down. What if my leg goes during a pyramid or… I mean…"

"That's okay. Just, let's just keep the door open and see how you heal, okay?"

"Okay." You say, and fake a smile. And think of roses entwined, strangling each other as they fight for the light.

…

That night, as the neon blinks harsh through your motel window, sirens distant. You can hear the sounds of sex from two rooms away. The chitter of bugs in the walls. April is curled up in bed beside you in her pretense of sleep.

You think about Kennedy loving a monster. The tragedy of lying just so you can love. Loving in the dark.

How tangled love and lies are. That you can… yes, you can say love now… that you can love Buffy and lie to her about what you are. What you really are.

Is there love without lies?

Your laptop seems to hear your thoughts, it's search complete, a file flicks up on screen. The file of Jana Kalderash, their heir to the line, keeper of their magics.

And there is your answer.

Because the picture is of Jenny Calendar


	21. The Dark Age

**Chapter 21**

**The Dark Age**

Giles' phone line is dead. You curse under your breath and snatch up your short sword, strapping it to the webbing hidden under your letter jacket. You grit your teeth and jog as fast as your leg will allow.

The sky is deep red, the sun low, flashing at you through the alleys as you limp on. The streets are darker than usual, and you realize suddenly that the lights are all out. All of them. People are out in the street when you get to Oak Park, some with torches, some candles. They are talking and joking among themselves. Giles and Violet are not among them. The stairs are agonizing, your leg feels full of needles of shrapnel, but you have to get to Giles. Because you think, why would a vampire slit a Slayers throat and let her precious, powerful blood bleed out?

_I will drink you like champagne._

Because what of it wasn't a vampire that killed Kennedy at all?

_The Queen killed her._

Because vampires lie too.

_I won't hurt you. I promise._

You struggle in the near dark, your senses straining. You hear a crash and a scream or growl. No time for pain, you roar and lean into a sprint. Without breaking stride, you take the door, shoulder down, ripping it clear of its hinges and sweeping it aside. The room is lit with candles, Giles holding Jenny back as she brandishes the blade toward his throat.

You keep your momentum, tackling her hard, crashing you both into the plasterboard wall. She turns and buries the blade into your shoulder, deep- your arm spasms and tears into the plaster. The blade twists, shooting pain through you like a stun baton- muscles feel like they are punching you from the inside. You scramble in the plaster dust, grabbing for flesh, finding her ribs. Your punch is weak and awkward, but hear her cry out. She staggers, and claw your way out of the ruined wall.

Oh god, Giles is laying on the floor, blood flowing from between his fingers. You were too late. She stabbed him.

"You... you..." She cries, squaring off against you in the center of the room. "You have to understand. I had no choice. I am bound by blood… Faith, I had no choice, don't you s-"

Suddenly, the lights snap back on, the television too, and Jenny startles and looks right at it. You seize the handle of your sword and draw, smashing her blade with all your strength, embedding it deep into a ceiling beam. Your punch drops her cold. It takes everything you have not to drive the sword through her heart.

Collapsing onto the debris, the pain and fatigue start to swim over you. Your sword thuds to the floor, and you shortly follow. Giles tries to reach for you, but slumps and goes limp. One last task before you can rest. Just one. You crawl to the phone and dial with bloody, shaking fingers.

* * *

The night air is chill. From the high position of the hospital, you can watch as all over Sunnydale, blackouts roll. Suburbs go dead, flickering back to life minutes later. A dance of chaos in the night.

Thankfully, the hospital remains unaffected, it's backup generators working full bore. Somewhere inside Giles is in surgery. You hate hospitals. Slayer healing what it is, your stab wound has sealed up by the time you reached triage. You want to see him. To follow him in. But you hate hospitals. You breathe the cold night air instead and wait.

"You okay?" Violet says, appearing at your side. She looks terrible. Eyes red from tears. Ginger hair poking out haphazardly from her beanie.

"Nothing a little sleep won't fix. You know us." She nods, and hands you a coffee, which you hold purely for the warmth.

"Why do you do that? You know it's not what I meant." Vi says. "You really liked Jenny. Didn't you?"

"Doesn't matter. She killed Kennedy. Nearly Giles, and she would have come after us next. Whatever she was trying to hide, or protect, it meant more to her than any of us."

"I really thought she was one of us good guys. I just can't see her as anything but this kind, giving, brave woman."

"Maybe she is. But good is relative to the side your on. Isn't it?"

Violet looks away. Processing this, perhaps. Her world is still simple. The innocence of light and dark. You both watch as another blackout rolls across the town.

"Just so you know, Vi, Kennedy was screwing a vampire. I murdered my watcher. If you learn anything from this goddamn mess, it's that you never trust anyone. Ever."

She doesn't react, but you feel her hands close around yours.

"I trust Giles." She says. "And I… I trust you."

You pull you hands free and dump the coffee. "Then you are as big an idiot as I am." you say.

Violet watches as you leave.

* * *

It's midnight and Buffy doesn't answer her door. You climb the tree by her room, and her bed is made and quite empty. The window and curtains are open. She hates it shut; she is horribly claustrophobic.

You feel like a monster standing in her room uninvited. Your boots feel rude and cruel upon her carpet. Your heart hammers against your chest like a warning.

Your picture is by her bed. A Polaroid you remember someone taking of the two of you at the last game. Buffy's arm around your shoulder, pom pom held high, you look past the camera whilst she looks at you clearly with desire. This was before she kissed you. You touch the picture with your fingertip, almost afraid it might pop away to nothingness.

The hall is silent, the moonlight raking across the floor and banister. You check each room. And each is empty. Not a scrap of furnishings. Not even a bed.

You make your way down the stairs to the living room. Still, dustless. That museum feel. Paintings and artifacts from all over the world. Masks and rings and jewels and weapons. How obvious they are now to you. You have seen such things time and again in Giles' books. Upon a red velvet pillow, rests a gauntlet, wicked claws about the wrist. Another, a box engraved with arcane symbols.

And there, beneath the Inca Mummy picture, upon a table in perspex cube, a wooden octagonal box, with a familiar sphere. An Orb of Thesula.

Your eyes begin to blur with tears. Your throat clenched hard. If someone was to rip out your heart right now, it would probably feel no worse. You are no longer in command of your feet, they tread on, drawn towards the door. That one door that calls to you.

The cellar is key code locked. But you crush the steel and watch it spark between your fingers. The lighting on the stairs flickers on as you spiral down the stair. Slowly, so slowly.

The room has white walls of brightly lit plastic. A row of refrigerators with bags of blood to your left, a small sink and a medical incinerator. To your right another display cube, this one holding what appears to be a weapon. A long, double handled axe of bizarre red metal, the tip buried into stone. From an ornate fringe of metal at the end of the handle, a wooden stake protrudes. And whatever it is, you feel that sensation you had near Kennedy, near Violet, that spine deep pull, drawing you towards them, like they belong to you. Of course, they do, you are part of a whole. This belongs to you. It feels like yours.

"It's called The Scythe." Buffy says from behind you. You feel like you should go on guard, but your body is exhausted, numb from pain, your heart crushed. And so don't bother. Just keep on gazing at the rich red blade as it sings to your being.

"You feel it too, don't you?"

"You lied to me." You say.

"You lied to me too." She says.

You touch the cube. You feel the hum of deep magics inside you, stirring, like that feeling when you dream of the line of slayers. Of Kendra's death. Of India's. The line back and back until the faces blur into a savage roar.

"What are you?" You say.

"I am the same as you. That's why it calls to you." she sighs. "You are The Slayer, right?"

"And you are a vampire. I don't know how, but you are."

"I don't know what I am now." She sighs, sitting down upon the step. "But lifetimes ago when I wielded the Scythe, I was you. The Slayer. But I allowed myself to be seduced into the darkness. I broke the line. I bet you don't even dream of me. In that dream? The one we all have."

"You where turned."

"I was." she sighs. "And, so help me, I wanted it."

"What happens now?" you say.

"In your place? I would break the glass, take the weapon that was forged especially for me, and plunge it through the vampires heart."

You turn to look at her. She looks just like she always does. Small, innocent, tanned. Green eyes sad in the harsh white light.

"And what if I can't?"

"Because you are wounded? That I am a Slayer and a Vampire? Believe me, I won't stop you. I thought I could do this. Live a normal life, in the light. A do over. Be everything I always dreamed of being. Fall in love. Of course it had to be that of all the girls in all the world I could have fallen in love with? You had to be The Slayer. The powers-that-be have the sickest sense of humor, Faith, and when they have you, they never, ever let you go."

"You know what I meant. Why I can't."

"Funny thing about lies, go long enough, we start to believe them ourselves. I was lying to myself that I could be free of them. The powers and their games. I see that now. Because I can't change what I am. I can only hide it. And I am tired of all the lies. Aren't you? So let me make it easier for you."

She plays with the ring on her finger, a green gem set about with gold. Holding her breath, she pulls it from her hand and tosses it at your feet. Another follows, a Claddagh blackened with age that crackles blue as it hits the floor.

She watches as the skin of her fingers becomes pearlesent white, turning her hand this way and that. And, like milk flowing up her skin, the California girl tan melts in its wake, the freckles sink into that dreadful, crawling pallor. As it reaches her hair, the sun blonde gives way to raven black. Her face grows deathly white, the lips and chin stained pink like the master, and those lips curl to reveal teeth like you have never seen before on a vampire, serrated and spiteful. The last of her image to drown is those beautiful, kind hazel eyes. You feel the blood in you chill as those eyes bleed to red, the pupils piercing dots of black flecked around with gold and crimson.

The silver cross at her neck hisses against her skin.

She rises to her feet, and turns her palms towards you. You see an image of a naked woman, raven hair, rising from a bath of blood.

You smash the glass, feeling your body surge with power as you seize The Scythe, your demon part roars in the light, roars with a strength and purity you have not known. With a shudder your leg crackles as it knits together perfectly. Your skin sings as muscles tighten. You feel part of something deep and primal and… oh, how to be one with your purpose. One with yourself.

You are The Slayer.

And you roar as you bring down The Scythe with all your might.


	22. What's My Line?

**Chapter 23**

**What's My Line?**

The Scythe rings out. A silvery hum as if the very air it cuts sings of the blades perfection. And in your hands, it is perfection. You two are one. Slayer and Scythe. It moves perfectly to your will.

And perfectly, it stops at your command.

For as much as you are The Slayer, you are still Faith Lehane.

The blade hovers an inch before Buffy's head. Waiting. Obeying.

Buffy's breath hitches, and she opens her eyes.

"Oh thank fuck" she said "I changed my mind, like, a split second after you totally went for it. Screw poetic justice- I don't want to die." She looks around gasping down deep breaths, then she realises what she is doing and stops instantly. Rather embarrassed.

You lower The Scythe and both of you slump down on the step next to each other.

"That was intense" you say. "I kinda got lost in the moment."

"Me too. Serves me right for going to a totally depressing poetry reading at The Espresso Pump tonight. Hundreds of years of melancholy can catch up on you like vooophm." she crashes her hand into her other. A truck or perhaps a tidal wave. She is breathing heavily again.

"It's been one messed up night." You say. " It was Jenny Calendar who murdered Kennedy. She stabbed Giles. I got there just in time. Cops have her now."

"Is he okay?" She says.

"I don't know. He was still in surgery when I left the hospital."

"Goddamn Gypsies."

"Roma."

"Whatever." she groans. "I am not a fan. Why she do it?"

"Kennedy was trying to ensoul her girlfriend Willow. I guess Jenny… Jana Kalderash… found out she was getting too close to the secret she was guarding."

"That secret would be me." Buffy says, bitterly. "If Kennedy had The Spell of Restoration, she could easily reverse it. They are blood oath bound to keep me in 'torment eternal' for the life I took from them. Kennedy died because of me." she says with groan, her head falling onto your shoulder.

"No. She died because Jenny chose to murder her. Because I was too messed up and failed to save the girl she loves. Because she fell in love with a vampire and hid it from us all. You worry about your own sins. I'll worry about mine. Crap- Pot. Kettle." You shake your head.

"So what happens now?"

"All depends on you." You say, standing up, and pulling her to her feet. Her hands are cold, marble like, yet still fit so comfortably in yours. You gesture to the blood bags.

"I take it you don't kill to feed."

"I know a guy at the blood bank. Steve. Nice guy, adorable little daughter Melody. I've paid her medical bills for the last three years. His insurance just wouldn't keep her alive. That's just plain evil if you ask me. But, compound interest and immortality pair well. Oh, there's also Megan at the zoo- she has me covered when I feel like something a little exotic… you know… like maybe a juic-"

"Yeah good time to stop."

"I am so sorry about Kennedy."

"Yeah. Me too." You kiss her head. "Me too."

* * *

You hate hospitals, but some things are more important. Some people are more important.

Giles sits propped up in his hospital bed, watching in awe as Buffy tells her story. Around him Amy, Oz, April and Violet sit listening. Buffy's hand is warm in yours.

Despite you returning the rings to her hand, her tan did not return, and her hair remains black. But she looks human. She looks like… Buffy. Her pulse is strong under your fingertips. And you gotta admit it, you dig her new look just as much.

She starts her story:

"I was born in 1586, in Ecsed, in The Kingdom of Hungary. My name was Anna Nádasy. Daughter of Ferenc Nádasy and Erzsébet Báthory."

"Ha!" Amy says jabbing a finger at Giles "Told you. Sorry. Please continue."

"Hence Buffy… it's short for Elizabeth, in her honor. Plus I thought Buffy kind of sounds like Báthory, call me sentimental. Yunno, in every name I took over the centuries, I kept Anne or Anna as my middle name too." She smiles sadly and laces her fingers through yours.

"It was a dark time. A time of great wars. While my people battled The Ottoman Empire for our lands I battled The Order of The Dragon for our souls.

"I was called as The Slayer in the heart of this conflict. It took awhile for The Watchers to find me. As a noble woman, I was married off and expected to run my husband's estate as he went away to fight, which to be honest, I was rather glad of. To wed a man would not have been my natural choice." She says with a faint smile, glancing at you.

"So, long story short, I did my duty. All of it. I wed. I had a child. I slayed. Until one day I found myself facing down Vlad Dracul." She sighs and gestures to you. "Aaaand thus my duty passed to another poor girl. And so on, and so on down the line."

"You fought Dracula?" Oz says. "Cool".

"Well, I lost. Which was a bummer. Anyway, my mother, Erzsébet, went down in history for her cruelty. But her crimes were mostly mine. She was actually kind. Well, to begin with. A healer. Fascinated by medicine. She locked me away, actually thought she could cure her favorite daughter's lust for blood like it was a disease. She fed me wayward girls as she sought a cure. A bathed in their blood. Tortured them."

Buffy is gazing off into the distance now, her eyes reaching back across seas of time. Seas of blood. As she talks, her accent thickens, the cadence of her voice unfamiliar.

"When you are turned, you are still you, you are in there, but a demon rises beside you, merging, devouring your soul. You live to serve it. To make it delighted is to feel again. Whatever you were before that, dies with you. You experience life only in the hell that it demands you make for it. The things I did for it." He says, shaking her head.

"But with my soul returned, I am in control again, but I can hear it all the time; my demon, my hunger. I finally made her my bitch." She chuckles bitterly.

"I lived lifetimes in the darkness, feeding on animals. Taking enough to live. Killing only when I had to. It was a time of war, so I won't plead innocence. I killed a few people in defense. But I brought down Dracul's Order from the inside. Took his head with The Scythe. Burned his castle and all that followed him. Only just got out myself. And I thought it was enough. That my debt had been paid.

"I heard tales of the Gem of Amara. Dracul himself desired it."

"I too have heard much about The Gem. It is sort of the vampire equivalent of The Holy Grail.." Giles says, "I thought is a myth".

Buffy holds up her hand a points to the green and gold ring, something between a beetle or a skull. "You were mythtaken".

Giles looks awestruck. He gazes at the ring with such reverence. She clears her throat.

"I spent years hunting it down. I found many magical treasures, looking for the gem." She taps her finger on the Claddagh ring. "In Ireland, I found this- The Mask of Abhartach. It hides my nature, gives me warmth and breath and reflection. It made me hunt the gem with renewed vigour. All the way to The New World.

"And here, in Sunnydale, I finally found it. The Gem of Amara. The one thing that could grant me that which I dreamt of for so, so long. To walk in the sunlight once more.

"I wanted to live again. To get the life I was robbed of. To live in the light. To study. To love who I want. I just wanted that, after lifetimes of suffering, I just wanted... this."

She grips your hand and you cover it with your other. Her eyes a tearful, she looks at you with such pride, such love, yet so filled with shame. You understand how intertwined those things can be.

"Now that I know Faith is The Slayer, I want to help. I ran from my duty once before. I won't any more. If you can trust me. I know it must be stretch."

"If you wield the ring, you are immune to sunlight, crosses, holy water, stakes, all the vampiric strengths, none of their weaknesses."

Buffy shrugs. "Well, to be honest, I haven't tested beheading. Don't judge. It's just I kinda like my head where it is."

"You understand the risks of allowing a vampire such power?"

"I trust her. I trust her soul." You say, and for once, you believe every word coming out your own mouth. "The Slayer Scythe jacks up my powers Giles. It's amazing. It accelerated my healing. I am fighting fit. With Buffy, Violet and April we have four Slayers."

"April?"

"Combat upgrades courtesy of Willow's murderbot, plus a stack of my own work. She is every bit the fighter we are."

Buffy looks confused.

"Aprils a robot" Amy says. Buffy's mouth forms a little 'o'.

"I trust Buffy. And Violet, and April. I say it's time we all pay The Queen a visit. What d'ya think?"

Giles shakes his head in awe.

"Four slayers fighting together. As I live and breathe." He says. "I think it's bloody brilliant."

The Scythe sings out as you swing it up and stand. "Sun's going down. Yo Oz, Amy, you coming?"

"Wouldn't miss it." Amy says, slipping her arm around Violet.

"And where Amy goes, so goes the Oz." Oz says.

"Let's motor."

The gang heads farewells Giles and heads for the exit.

"How is Violet also Slayer?" Buffy says.

"It's a long story." Violet says.

"I died for a bit."

"Or… not." Violet shrugs.

* * *

Whilst the gang go for weapons and supplies, Buffy takes you to a secret demon bar she knows. Willy, the patron, is more than willing to give up the Queen's position when Buffy pulled a fat roll of bills.

"I still say we could have scared it out of him." You say as you rendezvous with the gang in the industrial district.

"Hello?" Buffy says, "I like drinking there, thank you very much."

"What's the plan?" Violet says as you all meet. All eyes turn to you. Your instinct is usually to shrug it off, look for someone to take the burden. But, tonight, the Scythe feels so good in your hands. Your body buzzes with strength and your mind feels sharp. Plus, you see something reflected back on all the gang's faces you have never seen before, or never noticed, they have faith. In you. So...

"Okay. Listen up. Willy says it is a big event tonight. Fangs from all over are coming. So we are gonna crash the party. Hard. Once the chaos starts, there will be runners. Oz and Amy, seal the exits. Some pyro, witchy stuff… whatever you got. No one gets out unless it's in a dust buster."

"You got it." Amy grins wickedly.

"Lots of vamps in a tight space means spread weapons. We come from the roof with holy water. Make it rain. Whoever is left gets it the old fashioned way. Sound like a plan?"

Everyone nods.

"Well then, let's do what we do"

* * *

The Blood Queen has been busy. As you and Buffy make your way silently across the roof, you glimpse row after row of bizarre machines whirring away below. Robotic claws push green crystals across black fabrics, hissing and sparking as they fuse and cut shapes on a conveyor belt.

The trapdoor is laser alarmed, but the roof is old. You find a loose sheet of tin and work the easily work the nails free. Buffy slips into the darkness, and you follow behind

The gantry is thick with old sawdust clinging to cobwebs. You have to wade waist deep in the crap to get into a good position. Below you, the vampires are too many to count. Maybe sixty or so. They are dressed up to the nines in formal wear. Heavy on the gothic. Some in robes. The mood is somewhat tense, with hissing voices and squabbling.

You gotta admit, The Blood Queen does have a flair for the dramatic. The decaying metal beams are dressed with garlands of roses and red ribbons. Upon a dias, an ornate red wooden chair is placed under spot lights. Blood is served in champagne flutes and baroque music plays through speakers.

And speak of the devil, the crowd turns as the lights dim and a spotlight hits the stage. The familiar figure clad in an oil slick bodysuit, framed by guards, strides confidently into the light. She turns to survey the gathering before taking her place on the throne.

With a hiss, her mask parts like the petals of a black flower, each one sliding back into place behind her neck. Short ginger hair shakes free. Her pallid skin made even more sickly with slick green makeup and a bloody mark upon her forehead. Her lips, painted a deep dark gloss red, part in a slow sensual smile.

"Willow" Buffy whispers. You feel a sickening knot in your gut. Remember back to the night you danced alone. Kennedy's face screaming at you through your haze.

A huge vampire with a booming voice calls for silence.

"The Anointed One. Heir to The Master. Ruler of Aurelius. Our Queen."

Willow stands, her silver clawed hands raised to the crowd.

"My children. How bound to the dark we are. Our ways are the ways of the dark age. Of magic. I say, it holds us back. I say, it hold us at the door univinted. Cowering in the shadows. Flinching from the cross. But by The Master's will, I usher in a new era for our kind. Of technology and magic as one. Turning mankind's own tools against them."

Cheers and roars echo through the building.

The panels behind her flicker to life and peel away, and you realise they patterns where projected. On each screen, a bodysuit and helmet is shown, much like her own, though far less ornate.

"Introducing the Nightweave. My very own design. Necrotempered glass fibre woven into fabric. Guaranteed to protect you from fire, sunlight, holy water, stakes and…" she gestures to her heart as if dramatically wounded. "Slayer's Arrows." A laughter ripples among the crowd. You tighten your grip on The Scythe.

"With our armies clad in Nightweave, there will be nothing to stop us conquering the living. Stepping from the shadows and harvesting them in the light."

Four vampires take the stage, dressed in Nightweave. Your heart sinks. You cast a worried glance at Buffy. She presses her hand to your cheek. Her kiss is warm and soothing.

"Bow to me, make me the ruler, march under The Banner of Blood Rose, and your houses shall wear my protection."

"This is an aberration!" A voice cries out from the crowd. You feel your blood freeze at the sound. The crowd parts to reveal Kakistos standing amongst his retinue. Mr. Trick already distancing himself, the slimy rat. "This is not our way! We are proud hunters! This self styled queen would have us buy our blood in can. From a drive through like the cattle! You bow to her, you remain on your knees. This is not our way. "

_Strangle him Faith. You know you want to, dear girl. Strangle him and I will let you run._

Buffy's hand is on yours, pulling you back to yourself. She gestures to an air conditioning pipe across the way. Violet and April are crouched above it. April gives you a happy wave.

"Make it rain."

* * *

In seconds, the barrage of holy water turns the crowd into a seething, screaming, hissing mass. You grab another vial and send it smashing down onto the face of a vampire so hard they fly back, crashing down a whole section of the crowd. Another roar of pain and outrage reverberates around you.

Buffy is away first, landing on the stage and immediately beating back those trying to climb up onto it. You spin, cleaving the bars that hold the gantry in place, and leap at it drops crushing those beneath. As you hit the pile of vampires with both boots, a plume of grave ash blasts past you. You feel like an elemental force as you set about scything down the wicked beasts all around. Limbs fly and ignite midair. Skulls roll. Hideous faces rip open with fire and crumble to black ash.

Violet is among the chaos, proud and fierce, her broadsword taking heads left and right, sweeping away legs. April is there in an instant, burying her stakes home on the fallen and maimed. Her moves precise, calculated, fatal. Her arm blurs as she takes out a vampires heart, her stake penetrating the one behind as well.

Violet cries as her sword is dislodged by a savage bite, you toss the Scythe to her, it sings as it finds her hand. She brings the stake end down through her attackers back. Taking up the weapon and spinning it confidently, she looks at you with a wicked smile. Yeah. She can feel it too.

"Oh, these guys are toast." She says and begins the onslaught anew.

But your smile is split bloody upon a cloven fist. You stagger, blocking the second blow, spinning low, drawing your stake and sinking it deep into your attacker's chest. But the body does not ignite. You stagger back to find Kakistos towering over you. Half his grotesque face stripped of flesh, hissing and bubbling from holy water.

"Faith." He growls. "My, how you've grown. Where is that pathetic, cowardly little girl from Boston? You have some fire now."

"I have more than that." You say, and launch a barrage of kicks into his barrel like body. He laughs as he blocks your blows easily. You spin kick his face, tearing at the eroded side with your heel, but he does not back away.

"My, you have come so far little Faith. It still isn't enough." He laughs. "You are still pathetic, Faith. You are nothing. Nothing."

You smile and point. He turns to look just as Violet buries the Scythe into his bullish neck with a meaty thunk. As he reaches to pull it free, April flits past, her chrome wrist blades catching the light as she severs his cloven fist at wrist. Another cut opens his throat. Another takes a hamstring. She plunges on into the guests.

Kakistos chokes black blood, and staggers back against a steel beam.

"See, here's the thing, Kakistos. I have them. So I no longer give a crap what you think of me."

Your flying kick drives the stake so hard into his sternum that his gigantic ribcage caves in. You feel the stake hit the metal behind. His vile face contorts in terror as he watches that delicious hellfire tears his body apart. As the beast crumbles, you pull The Scythe free. It hums happily in your fist

Kakistos, The Worst of The Worst is just so much ash at your feet.

"Buffy!" Violet cries out.

You turn, and see her up on stage, engaged in combat with the four Necroweave guards. Her axe dulls against them, knocking them back or down, but never harming them. Their claws have shredded her clothing and flesh, and although you can see her wounds seal before your eyes, she staggers wearily. You envision a blade cutting her ring fingers free, and you shudder. The Queen sits on her throne, an amused look across her ghoulish features.

"Keep them busy!" You say, indicating the straggling vamps to Violet and April. You kick off a girder and grab onto the chain hook above, your momentum carrying you across the battle and onto the stage. You roll, praying The Scythe can cut through Willow's hellish creation.

And gleefully, it does.

The fight is hard and fast. Buffy catching The scythe as the guards press in, sinking it deep into one and passing it back so you can behead your hammered down foe. Back and forth, you move as one. Slayer instincts guiding your bodies together. The final guard meets his end at your hands- The Scythe rings out like a bell as it rends him in two from crown to groin.

Silence falls on the room as the last of the guests crumble to ash. The Blood Queen claps and stands slowly.

"I should have killed you in your sleep, Faith. I could have. I was right there, in your room." She says to you. "But it seemed all too easy. No fun. And this has been such fun, don't you agree?"

You plunge The Scythe through her heart. The ancient magics ripping apart the Queen's technomancy like butter. But the Queen looks down, quite uneffected. A sickening feline grin crosses her face.

"You don't think I am stupid enough to actually be here, do you?" She says, her voice syrupy and distorted. Sparks crackle around the Scythe. "Tick tock, Faith."

Buffy rips you backwards, driving you both from the stage as the explosion tears the robot Willow apart. Your ears ring with the high pitched whistle of hot shrapnel ricocheting off the metal walls. Buffy is on top of you, her arms wrapping you, keeping you down to the floor. Keeping you safe.

"Aww. You're no fun." The Blood Queen's voice crackles over the speakers. "But rest assured, I will have my revenge. You think Giles is safe in that hospital bed? You have no idea what-"

The sound of a vampire dusting roars, squealing with feedback.

"Uh, testing… testing. Hello everyone" April's voice comes through the speakers. "I traced her signal to just the other room. I decided to slay her. Because I am a Slayer now. I did good, yes?"

Violet is laughing. Laying on her back, covered in ash and blood, but laughing nonetheless. Buffy sighs and slumps against you.

"I need a bath." She groans "And some shampoo. And something illegal to drink. And to sleep for, like, a week. No. Two." She groans into your neck.

"Come on. I know where Giles hides his good Scotch."

You haul a protesting Buffy to her feet and retrieve The Scythe. April is damaged and scorched, but that doesn't seem to phase her. Violet falls into step with you all as Oz and Amy open the main doors. Amy gives you a high five. Oz nods. You nod back.

"Wait a sec" Buffy says as you walk away from the carnage. "I'm still your date for the prom, right?"

* * *

The Watchers Council arranged for The Necroweave Factory to be Demolished the next week. By then, you had the gang sweep through The Master's Lair and sealed it forever.

Down there, Buffy discovered The Queen's secret, hidden at the bottom of the blood well. Both the master's hideous skeleton, and another of Warren's robotic creations; A duplicate of The Master himself.

You watched as Buffy stripped off, complaining all the way about not wanting to ruin her new outfit, how cold it would be, and something about her 'hoo hah' as she dived into the blood well. As she rose naked from the blood, you see just how precisely Kennedy had captured her beauty.

Giles recovered from his injuries with time. If Jenny's treachery hurt him, of the loss of her love, he managed to not show it. But you suspect it will be some time before he gives his heart again. Until then, he seems happy to focus on raising Violet right.

One morning as she helped you get the doughnuts, April announced that she will be moving to your old room as Violet was taking Kennedy's. You ask April what she plans to do with a room and she shrugs and gives you that sugar sweet smile. "I don't know yet, but the prospect of finding out is exciting. That's the joy of free will. Don't you think?"

You never officially moved into Buffy's place, but it kinda sorta just happened by degrees. This morning she gave you a house key and told you to get over yourself.

So now here you are, laying entwined on the swing chair on her back porch, drinking wine and watching the sun dip low to the west. Buffy is warm against you, idly playing with your hair, humming an old song from a time long forgotten.

The night is coming and soon it will call to you both. But for now, in the dying sun, you find peace in each other's arms.

The End


End file.
